


Holiday Heat

by RositaLG



Series: Christmas Phrack [4]
Category: Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries
Genre: Advent Calendar, Beach Sex, Car Sex, Christmas Smut, Drunk Sex, Emotions, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Food Kink, Handcuffs, Kitchen Sex, Makeup Sex, Oral Sex, Outdoor Sex, Rough Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-26
Packaged: 2019-08-26 20:12:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 26
Words: 37,575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16688161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RositaLG/pseuds/RositaLG
Summary: The Christmas Phrack annual advent calendar of smut has arrived! This year's prompts are 25 different emotions to carry us through to the holiday. Rated E for Emotions. And, you know, other stuff.





	1. Giddy

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to the 7th annual smutty fic advent calendar! This year’s theme is emotions. Each chapter title is the emotional prompt I gave myself. If you want to check out the 3 previous Christmas Phrack stories you can find the entire series under the series tag. So settle in, buckle up, break out the hot cocoa or the ice water depending on which season you are currently in and let’s tackle the 25 days of Christmas together!

Phryne felt his fingers slide slowly back and forth across the top of the thigh currently draped over his. His thumb made lazy circles on her hip while the rest of his hand curved around to tease the sensitive flesh of her bottom, never straying far enough to cup her fully the way he did the night before, the way he did when he was breaking apart inside her.

She felt him stirring beneath her, his magnificent cock pressing into her skin as his body betrayed his thoughts and she couldn't hide her sleepy smile.

She placed a kiss to his bare shoulder and allowed herself to open her eyes and look up at him through her heavy lids.

“Good morning,” she whispered reverently.

“Good morning,” he smiled.

It was a new smile, relaxed in a way she had never seen him before. She had done that to him, brought this wild-haired, contented man into the light.

“Sleep well?” He inquired, his voice barely hiding its giddiness with the absurdity of being able to ask such a question.

“Never better,” she confessed, trailing her nails down his chest and over his stomach lightly. She could have sworn she felt him shiver. “You?”

He nodded once in affirmation.

“Hungry?” She asked, wondering if he would need sustenance after their long night. She watched his eyes turn dark at the question.

“Starving,” he growled.  

The gravel in his low, groggy voice flooded her body with desire and she licked her lips as she realized he would be just as eager to initiate as to receive. She found that useful in a bedmate. 

“Oh?” She played coy. She didn't want to give away all of her adoration too quickly. 

“And I have it on good authority that everything I want is already prepared,” he murmured cockily as he flexed his thigh underneath her quickly dampening quim to prove his point.

Feeling decadent and drunk on whatever he had done to her, she slipped her hand between them and coated her fingertips with her own lubrication and painted his lips carefully before he sucked her fingertips into his mouth one by one, treating each to a preview of what lay in store. Her clitoris, now fully awake, began to pulse. She pulled her hand away and he rolled her onto her back.

He hooked his arm under her thigh, anchoring her with his hand before spreading her other leg open before him. A guttural groan rumbled through his chest when he realized just how badly she wanted his mouth on her.

She wanted to confess that she had been dreaming about this moment for years, that she had endless fantasies with which he was about to compete, but she also didn't want to frighten him away.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he murmured as he placed kisses to her thigh, his tongue catching hints of her moisture as he moved higher.

“Yes,” she nearly sobbed with relief at his honesty, reaching down to touch his hair, wanting to be physically connected to him in any way she could. She let her fingers entwine in his locks, her breath escaping in a hiss, as his tongue finally reached its target.

As he made love to her with his mouth, Phryne finally let the magnitude of what was happening between them hit home. She had relished in the slightly forbidden, playful way they had snuck away from Dot’s wedding to consummate their relationship the night before but in the light of day, the history between them was able to shine through and the reality of their new situation completely overwhelmed her.

“Jack!” She cried out to him as he hit upon a particularly good rhythm and he grasped her hip tighter, somehow both bearing down to please her and letting her know that she was not alone. She bit her lip, trying to latch onto the moment but the rushing in her ears was getting louder. Her words dissolved into cries as pleasure overtook her in a swirling riptide from which she could not escape. The waves crashed over her again and again, contorting her muscles to their whims until she was tossed ashore, left panting and disoriented.

She felt Jack’s gaze upon her as she collected herself but she couldn't bring herself to open her eyes.

“Christ, Phryne,” Jack exhaled, placing a kiss to her shoulder as he settled in beside her once more, “you’re unbelievable,” he praised before realizing she wasn’t responding. “Hey...” The tenderness in his voice did nothing to stem her overcome trembling.

“Oh, don't mind me, I’m simply falling apart at your touch,” she mocked herself as she wiped a stray tear from her burning eyes.

“Oh.” He looked pleasantly surprised.

“Mm.” She gave him a knowing look, reading his mind. “I thought I had imagined every way you might take me, but if this is the starting point, I might never survive the rest.”

“So this isn’t typical?” He stated more than asked.

“No,” she flashed him a pointed look. “Why? Do you always bring the women in your bed to this state?” She inquired, perhaps not giving him enough credit in the past.

“Not to my knowledge,” he spoke humbly. “But I’ve also never been with someone so… responsive in the bedroom either. It makes it easy to give you what you want.”  

“Speaking of,” she moved over his body, wanting to take the attention off of herself, “what shall we try next?” She asked, coming face to face with him.

“Take me inside you,” he requested, his nose nuzzling against hers as his lips teased her with their distance.

She was all too happy to fulfill his simple desire.

She took her time with him. She kissed his neck, monitoring his pulse with her lips. She worshiped his skin softly with her fingernails. She counted each sweet slide of his straining cock inside her. She continued her onslaught until he was calling out her name, arching up into her in ecstasy.

When she finally collapsed beside him, she waited a long moment before getting up to clean herself off. By the time she had returned, Jack’s eyes were closed and she smiled at the destroyed remains of the man that she loved.

She dropped the cold, wet towel in her hands onto his stomach and he moaned in protest before she began to wipe down his body, cleansing it of 12 hours worth of sex, sweat, and sleep.

“You are quite possibly the most insatiably tactile person I’ve ever met," he mumbled. "You’re like an octopus.”

She let out a proper laugh, right down to her core, and he pulled her up against his damp chest to feel it rumble against him.

"You love it," she accused. 

“I love your laugh," he allowed, sidestepping his real feelings on the matter gracefully.

“Good, because you'll be hearing it a lot more often,” she informed him with a poke to his ribs.

“Really?” He looked pleased by her response, as if he had been expecting her to come to her senses at any moment. 

“Yes, really. You make me incredibly happy," she reinforced, wanting him to take some of the credit for her current state. “And you?” She inquired, her anticipation of his answer making her heart flutter in her chest. “How does Inspector Robinson feel about the latest development in this case?”

He considered the question carefully.

“Mm," he tossed his head side to side, vacillating between his options, "I suppose it will have to do," he decided but a smirk was hovering just at the corner of his lips. 

Phryne decided that the only acceptable thing to do would be to kiss it off his lips. 

Jack didn't seem to register any complaints. 


	2. Embarrassed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for all your kind words. Let's keep this December party rolling...

“Miss Fisher, what brings you to the station?” He inquired as he put down his pen and observed the basket she was raising to the desk.

“When was the last time you had a proper meal, Jack?” She asked.

“Unfortunately for me, about an hour ago.” He tried to peek into the basket but she slapped his hand away.

“Who beat me to it?” She demanded to know, her hand on her hip.

“A grateful wife from a case I recently closed.” He folded his hands primly on the desk in front of him, willfully ignoring the sudden adulterous feeling her cold stare was invoking. 

“I’m sure she was,” Phryne murmured under her breath and Jack realized she was jealous.  

“We proved her husband was innocent," he attempted to explain but Phryne didn't look swayed. "It’s not my fault women are always trying to feed me," he relented.

“It’s not exactly a coincidence either!” She raised her voice petulantly.

“And just what is that supposed to mean?” He exasperatedly asked, sighing at her sudden tantrum. 

She gave him a long hard look, pondering if she should say anything before sitting down on his desk.

It appeared as if she were about to be very frank with him and Jack had to school his features to remain impassive.

“You are normally a rather reserved, stoic man," she stated the obvious as she gestured to the picture he made in front of her, all stern and professional. “But when you eat, you become....” she paused, searching for the right word, “indulgent,” she decided, her intonation of the word nearly sending a shiver down his spine. “You get a tangible pleasure from good food and more importantly, you show it. You hum and sigh and groan, and that mouth of yours," she drew her eyes to it, making him self-conscious, "the one that already keeps us up at night, works slowly over the utensil in your hand, pulling every last morsel from it, relishing in whatever you’re tasting.”

She licked her lips herself and he felt himself turning pink in embarrassment.

“And if, as our experience tells us, you are a devotedly celibate man who refuses to give in to our other _more worldly_ charms,” she stroked the scarf around her neck seductively, “than we must find another way to insure your personal satisfaction,” she explained. “And later, our own.” 

Her eyes were lust-hazed and unfocused as she stared through him, the fantasy she had concocted playing in her mind.

Jack wanted to know what it was.

“And do you?” He asked quietly, stealing her attention. “Find your satisfaction?”

He would have testified in a court of law that he saw her pulse quicken beneath the pale skin of her neck.

“I do my best, given the options,” she murmured, lowering her eyes to her fidgeting fingers.

Jack wondered just what those fingers had done in his name.

He stood up from his chair and she immediately uncrossed her legs, making room for him without thought.

“And if given more?” He pondered out loud.

Phryne's eyes shot up to meet his, shocked by the overt question. He didn't look away. 

“I would like that,” she confessed quietly.

He stood there between her knees, observing her blue eyes for what felt like forever before they fluttered shut. He glanced down and realized his fingers were stroking the outside of her thighs lightly, and cloth-covered though they may be, Phryne relished the contact.

He took his hands back and she inhaled sharply, trying to compose herself.

“Tonight?” He asked.

She nodded.

“Alright then.” He cleared his throat and stepped back. “I’ll lock up and meet you at Wardlow.”

He felt Phryne's eyes on him as she prepared to go and he tried to remember how to go about completing tasks he had been doing for over a decade. He looked down and opened a drawer, pulling out a set of keys. 

“Jack?” She paused in the doorway and he felt a fire rush through him at the soft, sex-soaked way she said his name. He had to get it together before they got to her bedroom or he’d never last.

“Don't forget the basket,” she reminded him gently, the promise in her eyes worth the torture they were currently in.

He watched her walk through the lobby and out the door before he exhaled loudly. He rubbed his face with his hands, trying to focus but he couldn't manage oxygen at the moment, let alone the bloody basket.

A sinfully brilliant idea struck him and he opened the lid of the basket. He carefully removed the silver and dropped it into his open desk drawer, closing it again with a smile. It was time that she found new uses for those fingers of hers.


	3. Frustration

Phryne pulled up to the house and looked it over. It was a small brick bungalow, rather plain, but it had character and was well-tended. It was just the sort of simple abode that would suit Jack’s minimalist tendencies. She opened the front gate of the waist-high fence and was walking towards the front door when she heard someone in the back garden. She peered around the house just enough to see the top of his head bouncing in and out of her line of sight from behind the house.

She made her way back and found him squatting in front of a disassembled bicycle. He was clad only in moleskin pants, braces, and an undershirt, and covered to the elbows with smears of grease. His face was set in a frustrated scowl. She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry at the sight.

She cleared her throat gently to make her presence known and he looked up in surprise.

“Miss Fisher!” He stood up quickly, caught off-guard by her.

“At ease, soldier,” she smiled, pleased by his reaction and Jack immediately frowned in disapproval as he came to his senses.

“How can I help you?” He asked dryly as he pulled a rag out of his pocket and attempted to wipe his hands clean. His resigned professionalism in the light of her teasing felt mismatched and she suddenly felt like maybe she had taken too many liberties with his privacy.

“I have an update on Mr. Edwards. I stopped by your office and Thomas mentioned you had the day off and since I was already out for a drive I thought I’d try you here, but I can see now that I’m merely interrupting hard work of another kind.”

Jack, still focused on cleaning his hands, was watching her out of the corner of his eye but clearly sensed her nervous energy and he made a decision to put her at ease.

“The only thing you’re interrupting is my futile attempt to mend what cannot be fixed.” He tossed the rag onto the pile of parts at their feet. “Would you care to come inside for a drink and fill me in on the latest details?” He waited for her nod before heading into the house.

She followed him through the back door and into the kitchen and he gestured for her to take a seat at the kitchen table while he began to wash his hands properly at the sink. She watched him lather his hands, a strange stirring in her abdomen as she took in his ruggedly handsome silhouette from behind. The man knew how to fill out a form, that much was certain.

Jack poured them each a glass of fresh juice before casually leaning back against the counter, one hand resting comfortably on it as he took a long swig of his drink.

She watched his adam’s apple bob in his throat and it took everything she had not to focus on the fact that in a handful of moves, she could have his braces around his hips, their undergarments around their ankles, and the most perfect leverage upon which to ride him.

“So, what brings you all the way out here?” He asked.

“Hmm?” She missed the question.

“You mentioned Mr. Edwards?” He encouraged as he set his juice down beside him.

“Oh, yes.” She could have sworn she saw a glimmer of amusement in his eyes. Damn. “His alibi for the evening in question has fallen through.”

“Really?”

She had his attention and he joined her at the table.

“It appears that Mr. Edwards has taken a liking for a certain gentlemen’s club downtown and Mrs. Edwards is no longer feeling benevolent. She has rescinded her statement.”

“She was lying for him?”

“Or simply repeating the lie she had been told,” Phryne discerned the difference. She gestured for him to come closer before lowering her voice and leaning in across the table dramatically. “Rumor has it that when she finally found him, it was in a hotel suite with two young women on either side of him, subsisting solely on a diet of French champagne and Russian caviar, but you didn’t hear that from me.”

“Bravo, Mr. Edwards,” Jack smirked, impressed.

Phryne smiled as she leaned back and took a victorious but dainty sip of her juice.

“I’ve looked into the... entrepreneurs in question and I can promise you, a man like that can’t afford them, especially on a bank clerk’s salary.”

“If he was on a spending spree, someone must have cut him a share for his cooperation in the robbery,” Jack surmised.

“Perhaps the wife thought that they would share the money together, not knowing all the while that he was planning to use the money as an escape from his bland life.”

“Hell hath no fury,” Jack commented dryly, his mind whirling with the possibilities this opened up. “Good work, Miss Fisher.”

“Thank you,” she preened. “But now, I should leave you to your battle with your bicycle,” she smiled knowingly and he glanced out the window with a scoff as if he had forgotten about the challenge awaiting him.

She stood up and went to pass him just as he got to his feet and she faltered in the small space, pitching forward into his arms. She managed to place her hands on his chest as she found herself with her nose in the crook of his neck.  

The air in the room got tight as they both assessed the near miss, adrenaline pumping. Phryne inhaled a shaky breath and the unmistakably male scent of sweat, sun, and oil hit her nostrils. She longed to suck on the curve of flesh and find out if it tasted as good as it smelled. His skin felt sun-warmed through the thin material of his shirt and her hands couldn’t resist sliding under his braces to feel his heartbeat against her palm. She swallowed uncomfortably, fearing that if she looked up, his sharp eyes would see the lust reflected in hers.

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly in her ear, his voice sounding a bit rough.

“Mmhm.” She righted herself before he could see the gooseflesh breaking out across the back of her neck.

He took a step back, just enough to give her an exit, but she didn’t move.

“Actually, no. I’m not,” she changed her mind. “I want you, Jack. I want you all the time if I'm being honest and I’m tired of being the one always standing here, fantasizing about you sweeping me off my feet, taking me back to your bedroom, and ravishing me when I know that you won’t. You’ll ignore this horrible tension in the air and continue about your afternoon basking proudly in your own noble self-denial, torturing yourself for absolutely no reason and I’ll once again be left out in the cold feeling like a massive idiot for getting my hopes up. Just once, I would like to know how it feels to have you actually do something about it instead of…”

She didn’t get to finish.

His fingers wove up into her hair as he kissed her, refusing to be gentle.

She met him greedily, her mouth opening to welcome his roving tongue as she pulled his braces down around his arms. He barely blinked as he let go of her and shoved his bottom half of his wardrobe to his ankles before returning to her lips again.

She moaned in desire as she felt his eager cock begin to press into her belly. She struggled to reach up her dress and undo her tap pants, but eventually, they fell silently to the kitchen floor.

Jack lifted his undershirt over his head with an ease that she would fantasize about later as she unbuttoned her dress and lost the rest of her clothes.

Now freed, she returned to kissing him.

“For the record, I always wanted you too,” Jack mumbled against her lips as she sat him down in a chair and straddled him.

“Noted.” She rubbed herself against him as they kissed again.

The close proximity suddenly reminded him of another case and she smiled as he broke away to suck her breast into his mouth purposefully this time. Her fingers massaged his scalp encouragingly as he moved to the other breast. He worked his way over her chest and she leaned backwards planning to lay back on the kitchen table.

“Too far,” he pulled her back, wanting to keep her closer.

“How’s this?” She gave as her only warning as she wrapped her hand around him and lowered herself down onto his magnificent erection. He felt spectacular inside her. She hoped that he would last long enough to let her finish like this. She'd wanted it for so long. “Tell me when you're close,” she reminded as she began to move over top of him.

He was basically trapped beneath her, her thighs over his and her arms over his shoulders but his mouth explored her, nibbling at her ears, her neck, her chest. His fingers, meanwhile, were doing sensational things to her clitoris.

She found her rhythm and she was delighted to find he had no problems staying in step. In fact, it wasn’t long before she felt her orgasm coming on.

“Oh, oh, Jack,” she warned and with another swirl of his fingers, she broke, waves of pleasure cascading through her core. She clung to him as she rode out the waves, his hand latching securely on her back to steady her. She found herself back in the crook of his neck, her lips murmuring his praise, as her hips began to slow, not satisfied until they’d taken everything he had to give.

“Phryne,” he murmured as he stroked her hair, “you have to get up now,” he advised as he lifted her up onto the kitchen table behind her.

She watched as the remnants of their union coated his tight, pulsing erection. He was so close and she wanted to offer her help but with a few strokes of the hand that had just ruined her, he handled it himself. She watched on in awe of him, wondering where her reserved Inspector had gone.

When his body relaxed again, Phryne leaned forward to kiss him hungrily.

“Thank you,” she cupped his face with her hand.

“You’re welcome?” Jack chuckled, unsure how to respond to her gratitude. 

“I’m sorry if it wasn't... if I pushed you.”

“The only thing you pushed me into was this chair,” he assured her.

“I couldn't help that. You were just too much to resist,” she shrugged helplessly.

He smiled as if he didn't quite believe her version of the events. He had no idea how impossible it was to hold herself back in his presence.

She kissed him one more time, to attest that it was true, before letting him go so he could find a towel.

She picked up her clothes off the floor and went off in search of his bathroom.

One sight of herself in his mirror and she knew she would have a love mark on her collarbone in the morning. She fingered the red mark lightly, smiling as she recalled who had given it to her. She used the toilet and did her best to make herself presentable before stepping back out into the hallway.

She heard a dresser drawer sliding open from what she assumed was his bedroom. She wasn't sure what possessed her, but she headed towards the noise. She leaned in his doorway as he put a fresh shirt on and he turned to smile at her.

“Were you planning to work on the case?” He asked.

She stared blankly at him. It wasn't the question she had been expecting. He read her uncertainty and immediately followed up with his real question.

“Because if you're free, we could…”

“Yes,” she agreed and he laughed at her eagerness.

“What was I going to say?” He asked, wanting to test her impatience.

“You said we,” she moved towards him. “Anything after that is inconsequential.”

“Ah, I see,” he smirked at her logic.

She kissed him, giving him time to consider her point. He did nothing to dissuade her from ending it, so she didn't.

“We just got dressed,” he reminded her with a sly smile as her hands began to slide up his still untucked shirt.

“Rookie mistake,” she excused breathlessly and he laughed at her unexpected response. His chest rumbled against hers as he held her close.

“We never did make it to the bed,” he stated, his tone covering for the unspoken suggestion. “Wasn’t that part of your original request?”

“It was!” Her eyes lit up at his genius excuse to have each other again.  

“Well, we should get our first time right, don’t you think?” He suggested as she found herself being walked backwards towards the bed.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized that his use of the phrase first time implied that there would be subsequent times and she smiled proudly at their progress.

“Absolutely,” she agreed as he kissed her. "No matter how many tries it takes."


	4. Selfish

Jack placed his hat on his head, his eyes rejecting the bright sunlight after the darkness of his library research. He looked down the street, taking a moment to adjust to the harsh light when he saw Jane Ross heading past him.

“Miss Ross! Hello,” Jack said with a smile as the young girl paused momentarily at hearing her name.

“Inspector,” she nodded politely, but coldly.

That was something new. Or rather, old, he realized as he recalled their first few days of knowing one another.

“Back from school?” He asked, testing the waters.

She nodded, impatiently waiting to cross the street. As soon as she was able, she was off the curb and zigzagging quickly through oncoming traffic.

It was so uncharacteristic that Jack let her get a few steps before finding the mind to go after her.

“Jane!” Jack called out. “Is everything alright?” He asked, his eyes furrowed.

“I’m fine, thank you. I need to get home,” she excused her behavior.

“I could give you a ride, if you’re in a hurry,” Jack offered kindly as he kept up easily with her fast steps.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” she replied as she kept up her pace.

“Why not?” Jack asked.

“Because I’m upset with you,” she explained simply.

“May I ask why?” He frowned.

The question was enough to get her to spin on her toes to face him. In fact, he had to struggle not to run into her she had turned around so quickly.

“She cried all night long after you left her, did you know that?” She informed him, her haughty tone lashing out, wanting to make him feel guilty.

There was no need. Once he realized who she was referring to, he felt plenty of guilt all on his own.

“I didn’t,” he murmured quietly.

“I don’t understand how could you do that to her after all..." she huffed, "I thought you were different. _She_ thought you were different,” Jane scoffed. “She trusted you with her life, with her friends’ lives. She told me that you would never let us down. But you abandoned her, just like everyone else.”

Jack opened his mouth to explain but didn’t get the chance.

“It’s cruel, Inspector. And she may have forgiven you for it, but I haven’t.”

And with another turn of her heel, she was gone.

OOOOO

Jack knocked on the familiar red door, feeling sheepish. Mr. Butler opened it with his usual smile.

“Inspector! Lovely to see you.”

“Mr. Butler,” Jack acknowledged as he stepped inside. “Is Miss Fisher home this afternoon?”

As if summoned, Phryne floated down the staircase, her billowing white silk trousers looking like clouds beneath her. The woman certainly knew how to make an entrance.

“Jack! To what do we owe this surprise?” She asked him as Mr. Butler took his things.

“I was hoping to speak with you privately for a moment, if possible,” he spoke quietly and Phryne’s eyes went dark with worry.

“The parlor?” She offered and he nodded.

“Mr. Butler, we are not to be disturbed please,” she called behind her as she ushered him towards the space and shut the door behind herself. She joined him on the chaise and Jack felt the pressure of her being so close. He cleared his throat.

“Is everything alright?”

“I ran into Jane this morning,” Jack started, “and I realized after speaking to her that I still owed you an apology for my behavior as of late.”

“No, Jack…” Phryne shook her head, understanding.

“Yes,” he replied. “I was being selfish and I didn’t think about how you might…” He paused. “I never meant to hurt you.”

“I know,” she nodded, covering his hands with her own.

“But I did.” His statement was more of a question and Phryne sighed.

“You did what you felt was best in the moment. No one can blame you for trying to escape with your heart in one piece.” She stood up and there was an air of defensiveness in the action.

Jack sat staring, surprised by her comment.

“Isn’t that what you thought? That I was too reckless to be trusted with it?” Her arms were crossed. She looked wounded by the assumption of her character.

“No,” Jack shook his head as he made his way over to her. “Not at all. Quite the opposite, actually. You already have my heart,” he explained, “you’ve just never trusted me with yours.”

She gave him a warning look. He knew that he was walking into a minefield but it didn’t scare him anymore.

“When I thought you had died, I realized I had grown quite dependent on you. ‘What we do best’ requires a certain level of trust and communication between us and when it’s good, it’s unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. We can have entire conversations with only our eyes.” He looked down at his hands. “But just when I think we’re on the same page, I’m left standing alone with a smoking stocking in my hand and suddenly we’re worlds apart again.”

“Jack…” She tried to speak.

“You don’t have to explain it to me, Phryne. You’ve built a life that’s completely independent from needing anyone. I can see how even equal footing can feel like a loss of power to you after you’ve worked so hard to stand on your own and I don’t begrudge you that. I really don’t. I meant what I said before: I would never ask you to give that up. I couldn’t live with myself if I did.”

Phryne shook her head and turned to stare out the window.

“I’m the one who is selfish,” she muttered to herself.

“No,” Jack shook his head, knowing that wasn’t true.

“Yes, I am because I grew dependent on you too,” she confessed. “I’ve relied on you every step of the way and never once questioned whether or not you would be there to help me, personally or professionally. You’ve never let me down, Jack. Not once.” She sounded so sad. “So much so that it never dawned on me that you wouldn’t always be there when I wanted you to be. But that’s your point, isn’t it? I can’t keep you at arm’s length until I need you. It’s not fair.”

They stood there for a long moment, contemplating how to move forward.

“Why did you cry?” Jack finally asked, seeking an answer to his final question.

“What?”

“That night, after I left, Jane said that she heard you crying. Why?”

“Because I knew that you meant what you had said,” she shrugged. “You were walking away from everything good that we had together.”

“And you didn’t want to me to go,” he stated his assumption.

“Of course not. I told you that it would kill me to lose you and I meant it.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?” He took a step closer, already knowing the answer.

“Jack…” Her eyes were pleading with him to leave it alone but his were wide open, patiently waiting for her to explain in any way she could. “It wasn’t…”

“I think it was,” he maintained. “You loved me enough to let me go,” he murmured, watching her face start to crumble. “You chose to let me go.”

She was shaking her head in denial, trying to fight back tears, but it was too late. He knew that he was right.

As her tears finally came, he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly. He placed a kiss to the top of her head and she pulled away enough to kiss him madly through her tears. It turned out to be the kiss that broke the camel’s back and before they knew it, the desire that had been simmering between them came to a roiling boil.

Clothes were removed, not out of lust, but out of a frantic need to remove every last barrier that stood between them. They lost themselves in one other, falling to the rug of her parlor in an impassioned heat. Her every touch was an apology for her silence and his, a love letter absolving her of her self-imposed sins. They came shivering in each other’s arms, trembling in the wake of the wrought tension that had broken so suddenly between them.

When they found the strength to come back to reality, Jack reached for a towel from the drinks cart and cleaned them both up. They got dressed in silence, straightening and smoothing as best as they could.

When they were ready, Jack pulled her back in, wanting to hold her for just one more moment. His eyes searched hers for how she was feeling and she kissed him briefly in response. They didn’t have words, but that was alright. They both knew that they were on the same page.


	5. Jealous

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure y'all are aware by now that the amazing and prolific Fire_Sign is working on a 30 minute challenge Advent fic called "Sanctity of the Boudoir" but if you haven't subscribed to it yet, get on it. It's so wonderful.

“Can I ask,” Jack leaned in the doorway, arms folded, “what you meant earlier about being an expert in slipping past guards?”

She wracked her brain as he stared expectantly at her.

_Oh, I had perfected my ability to sneak into forbidden areas long before I became a private detective. In fact, I had already achieved fame for slipping past guards and policemen while I was still in primary school. I've snuck into just about everything there is to break into._

Which, she realized now, also meant long before she had slipped past _him_.

“Oh.” She pressed her lips tightly together in humorous shame as she realized he was teasing her. 

“Oh,” he agreed, a playful glint in his eye, as he leisurely left his place in the doorway to make himself at home on her sofa.

“Jack,” she turned around to face him, “did you think yours was the first crime scene I had ever commandeered?”

“I wasn’t naive enough to think it was your first,” he defended with his patented pout, “but I wasn’t expecting _expertise_.”

She bit her lip, trying to fight back a grin at his dramatics.

“You have absolutely nothing to be jealous of, darling,” she assured him as she settled beside him. “Your crime scene was empirically the most well-run,” she kissed the corner of his jaw in that way he liked and he tilted his head to the side in acquiescence, “the most official...” she ignored his scoff and worked her way down his neck, “...and by far the most important crime scene that I’ve ever snuck into.” She loosened his tie and began unbuttoning his collar.

“I bet you said that to all the inspectors,” he accused.

She placed a hand on his chest, silently asking him to pause. She stood up and disappeared for a moment and when she returned, she was holding her beaded clutch, out of which she pulled a silver card case.

He gave her a curious look but he took the case from her without comment. He cracked it open and smiled at the contents, as if they had confirmed what he had already suspected.

“Is this the same one?” He asked, pulling out his card.

“Would you like to dust it for fingerprints?” She offered. “It's never left my bag. I’ve carried it with me every moment since that day.”

“With as much trouble as you get into, I think that's wise.” 

“I don't do it because it's wise. It’s the first thing you ever gave me. I cherish it,” she defended.

“The first thing you ever gave me was a headache,” he teased dryly as he handed it back to her.

“Shall I give you something else instead?” She asked far too innocently to be misunderstood. “Something to show you how different, how special, you were to me?” She was between his legs before he had time to protest their rather public location but his nervous glance toward the open parlor door did not go unseen. She knew she'd never have his attention while it was open so she got up and locked it herself. She returned to find her place reserved between his wide open legs and she smiled at his eagerness.

“See, you always secure the scene of the crime,” she praised.

“Learned the hard way,” Jack leaned back into the sofa as she rid him of his clothes.

She smirked as she began to arouse him in long, smooth strokes. She watched his eyes flutter closed as she massaged the plump, swollen head, dancing her fingertips lightly over it. She sucked lightly on it, her tongue toying with his slit before taking him deeper into her mouth. She licked up his shaft before fisting him and sucking him into her mouth. Her hands and mouth worked perfectly in tandem, knowing precisely what to do to draw out his pleasure.

“Fuck, that’s…” He shifted, trying not to thrust down her throat. A strangled hiss emerged from him as she did just that, swallowing and drawing him in even further.

She pulled away to stroke him fully a few times and returned back to fisting him and sliding her mouth up and down his tip.

“Phryne,” he moaned as he clutched at her shoulder desperately. The noises that followed were unintelligible as he spent himself inside her.

She released him with a pop as he began to soften and she sat back on her heels to inspect him.

He looked sated, his eyes closed, rag doll arms now hanging limply off the top of the sofa. He lifted his head and smiled groggily at her.

“I believe you’ve won your case, Miss Fisher.”


	6. Anger

Mr. Butler, who had obviously heard Jack's harried entry, appeared quickly but silently in the foyer.

“Inspector,” he greeted him with a tight smile.  

“Mr. Butler. Be honest: how much trouble am I in?” Jack asked as he hung up his hat and fixed his hair.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t say,” he replied vaguely. “She came in and went straight up to her room without a word.” But his face gave Jack all the information he needed to know. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, thank you. It’s late. I think I’ll just head upstairs and take my medicine, whatever it may be," he sighed, looking up the stairs warily.

“Good luck,” Mr. Butler nodded in solidarity.

Jack made his way up the stairs and cracked the bedroom door open quietly in the hope that she might be asleep but a lamp was lit on her bedside table. Phryne was sitting at her vanity preparing for bed. She turned to stare at him as he came in.

“I know. I know,” he said as he held up his hands in defense. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you injured in any way?” She asked quietly.

“No,” He shook his head unequivocally.

“Did the phone lines go out? Were you held hostage? Did City South fall into the sea?” Her quiet voice did nothing to hide the rage simmering beneath her words.

“It’s a very long story involving a car chase and a gun fight and I will tell you all about it if you want to know the details but truly, the long and the short of it is that I was simply unconscionably delayed by work.”

She raised her eyebrow as if she were unimpressed by his answer and removed her robe in a power play that he hadn’t expected. She was wearing a new nightgown that he knew had been purchased specifically for tonight.  

Jack sighed, closed his eyes, and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying not to lust after a woman he had just let down so magnificently.

“Aunt Prudence came to your defense tonight. She assured the table that you couldn’t be more honorable if you tried, regaling them with stories of all the times you’ve assisted our family. Although the more she lauded you, the more I wanted to stab you with my steak knife.”

“If it would make you feel better...” He joked.

“You scared me half to death, Jack!” She burst with annoyance, not finding the humor in it. “You’re the most steadfast man I know and then tonight, of all nights, to not even telephone…”

“I know,” he nodded. “As soon as I was able to leave, I drove directly here, at a speed that even you might consider shocking,” he added.

“Will this ‘very long story’ make the papers tomorrow?”

Jack glanced at his watch and considered the time. There was plenty of time to get the story posted.

“Front page, I would imagine.”

Phryne considered this.

“And if it’s not?”

“It will be,” Jack promised. “And I’ll go apologize to your parents tomorrow.”

“You don’t have to do that,” Phryne shook her head. “Everyone knows it wasn’t your fault.” She sighed. “I don’t even know why it’s bothering me this much,” she confessed. “I never care what other people think!”

Jack smiled at her obliviousness.

“You’re not worried about your reputation, you’re worried about mine,” he explained as he slowly wrapped his arms around her. “You wanted your parents to like me.”

“My mother,” she corrected him. “You’re a policeman; my father will never like you,” she pointed out, her anger waning.  

Jack smirked.

“All the more reason to reschedule dinner. You love upsetting your father,” he reminded her and she smiled as he kissed her forehead lovingly. “It will all be fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll make sure of it.”

“Are you sure? I can always tell them that you’ve come to your senses and changed your mind about this whole affair.”

All the laughter left his face.

“Is that what you thought happened? That I’d changed my mind?”

“Not at first, but as the hours passed, the possibility had crossed my mind.”

“Phryne, I love you and I’m not leaving until you ask me to, that’s a promise.”

“Even when I threaten to stab you with a steak knife?”

“Even if you did,” he replied honestly and she smiled at his response. “I’m sorry I ruined your evening.”

“Well, the night isn't over quite yet.” She turned his wrist over to read his watch. “There is still time to make it up to me.”

“And how would you suggest I go about doing that?” He asked as he slowly lowered her to the bed.

“I’m sure you’ll come up with something,” she encouraged as her hands went over her head.

He took the time to remove his coat and tie and to roll up his sleeves to his forearms.

Phryne watched on as a queen might oversee her servant and, maybe it was his competitive spirit flaring, but he was suddenly overcome with an intense desire to give her the best orgasm of her life.

He stilled for a moment, sitting beside her on the bed and really examining her.

“Jack?” She propped herself on her elbows, questioning his inaction.

“Hmm?”

“Everything alright?”

“Mm. I was just thinking about all the times I fantasized about this very moment: you spread out before me.”

“You fantasized about this?”

“All the time,” he revealed seriously. “Didn't you?”

She smiled like a cheshire cat, laying back comfortably. He took it as a yes.

“Tell me one?” She requested.

“Once upon a time…” he began and she rolled her eyes, striking him in the chest with the back of her hand.

Too soon to be making jokes then.

He tried again.

“They were mostly just a continuation of whatever had caught my attention that day. You were always finding ways to tempt me.” He placed his hands on either side of her waist, leaning over her slightly.

“Examples, Jack.”

“Blouses.” He blurted the word out before he thought about it. “I always wanted to press you into the nearest flat surface and unbutton them slowly, watch your breath hitch under my hand, drag my finger between the shadows of the undone fabric.” He turned to smile at her. “I had the same thoughts about unbuttoning those trousers of yours.”

Her eyes went dark as her legs spread minutely, but he noticed the subtle shift.

“Silk stockings weren't any easier to deal with,” he recalled. “I’ve seen your garters so many times, I have favorites.” He brushed a hand innocently over her knee and she shivered beside him.

“I’m starting to wish I were still dressed,” she tried to tease but her voice was weaker than she normally allowed.

“Mm, I can work with this.” He turned his attention to the blush colored silk in front of him. “When you revealed this to me tonight, I knew it was the same color as your skin when you flush with desire. When your chest tightens and you arch your back,” he slipped his hand higher up her thigh.

“R-really?” She stuttered.

“The same color of your thighs when I’m between them, scraping them with my teeth.” He stroked one fingernail along the inside of her thigh. “I could go on…”

“Jack,” she moaned, wanting more, “don't tease.”

“Would you prefer action, Miss Fisher?”

“Yes!” She pouted, irritated by his games.

He smirked and left her side to settle beside her legs.

She was spread wide and glistening for him, looking every bit the fantasy as she pulled her nightgown around her hips.

He dipped his finger into her damp curls, slipping along her folds and testing her. He sucked his finger into his mouth, cleaning his skin of her and adding his own lubrication before slipping it inside her.

A hum of appreciation came from the woman above him and he added a second finger to crook along the front of her walls.

He placed a kiss to her hip as he worked within her, watching her find the beat and match him with her own movements.

When she was close, he dragged his fingers from her slowly and placed them in his mouth.  He groaned with pleasure. 

“I love the taste of you, Phryne." He moved between her thighs to begin licking her folds clean, avoiding her clitoris entirely.

“Jack,” she cried, feeling empty and unsatisfied.

He came up and kissed her, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

“Let's take this off.” His hands worked the silk up her body until it was over her head. He tossed it lightly to the floor.

“You’re still dressed,” she complained, stroking her hands over the white cotton on his shoulders.

“Not about me,” he reminded her as he kissed her into silence. He trailed his kisses across her chest, sucking and scraping his teeth across her nipples, working them into tight peaks.

Phryne was nearly writhing beneath him as he moved lower to play with her belly button. He dipped his tongue inside, taunting her as she arched off the bed with need.

“Jack, please. Please,” she begged as she squeezed her breasts, wanting to feel something resembling release.

He wasn't quite ready to give up, so he pulled her thighs over his shoulders and spread her open with his fingers.

“Yes, yes, yes,” she was whisper-chanting in encouragement as he moved closer to giving her what she wanted.

He cycled through stations of pleasure, drawing a circle around the outside of her clitoris with his tongue, sucking it into his mouth, lowering his head to dip his tongue inside her and lap up the juices dripping from her core before starting again. He kept it up until the sounds she was making were inhuman and she finally cried out in relief. 

He worked her down from her high before kissing the top of her hip and dragging himself back to the top of her bed.

“Oh my god,” she moaned in exhaustion.

“See, sometimes, pleasure can be worth the wait,” he smirked.

She turned to him incredulously.

“You did all of that to prove a point?”

“Maybe just to help my own case,” he countered, phrasing it more diplomatically.

“Oh god.” She closed her eyes, unable to stand his smug smile as he got up to get undressed. This seemed to remind her that he was still fully clothed and she groaned louder at her own weakness.

“I hate you. I really do,” she informed him, wanting to bring him back down to earth.

“I’m aware,” he nodded as he unbuttoned his shirt, his smirk safely tucked away from her view.

“Did you do this on purpose?” She asked. “No. I don't want to know,” she folded her arms. “Actually, yes I do,” she changed her mind. “Is this some sort of long game I knew nothing about? You’ve been saving up tricks for when you know you’ll need them most? The next time you need to escape from sleeping on the sofa, I’ll find out you're secretly the world's best contortionist or something?”

He paused at the side of the bed, his hands on the doona.

“Are you calling me the world's best?” He asked, his eyebrow arched knowing she'd painted herself into a corner.

She let out an aggravated groan and did the cruelest thing she could think to do to him. She rolled over.

“No, no! I’m sorry. I’m sorry!” He apologized, jumping into bed with a laugh and pulling her back towards him. He kissed her happily, chuckling at her annoyance all the while. “I love you. I really do.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“I just wanted to make it up to you, that's all.”

“Mmhm.”

“No hidden motives, I swear.” 

“Good.” She reached over and turned out the lamp. “Night then.”

Jack watched her settle beneath the covers and for the first time since they had become lovers, and with the taste of her still lingering on his tongue, she left him unsatisfied.

He couldn't argue with the chess move.

“Goodnight,” he murmured lovingly, not giving her the satisfaction of knowing the pain he was in. After all, he’d been waiting all night for release, he could wait a few more minutes while she fell asleep.


	7. Regret

“Ah, the return of the crimson toes,” Jack smirked as he walked into the bedroom, already undoing his tie. He paused to watch her work as he unbuttoned his collar. “What’s the special occasion?”

“No occasion.” She carefully dipped her brush in the polish and continued her work. “Why do you say return?” She asked.

“I’ve seen them before, naked in an airfield for all the world to see,” he teased as he hung up his suit jacket for Mr. Butler to press later. His tie and shirt followed.

“I’ve gone to great lengths to forget that night,” she murmured in faux concentration, her eyes locked on the foot in front of her. She could feel his eyes examining her face but she refused to look up.

“Why?” Jack asked with that investigator’s tone that he couldn’t turn off, even after leaving the office.

“Because you told me that you would not be one of many. You told me what you needed to be happy and I still,” she paused to wipe an imaginary smudge of polish from her skin. “I don’t regret much in my life, but that...” she trailed off.

“Phryne,” he sat down on the bed beside her, “I will be the first to admit that I didn’t handle myself very well during that case but you didn’t do anything wrong. We weren’t even together.”

“You didn’t see your face,” Phryne interrupted darkly and he paused in surprise. She tried not to apologize in her life. She made her choices and she lived or died by them. But Jack’s face as he walked away from her would haunt her as long as she lived. She had never felt smaller.

“Look at it now,” he demanded, turning her chin to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d entered the room. His features, usually so reserved, were now wide open and held no visible malice for her actions. She saw only love, admiration, desire and all of those things that they had grown together since he had walked into her parlor with a bottle of wine and a promise.  

She cupped his cheek in her hand and smiled at the sweet gesture. With a nod of her head, she beckoned him closer and kissed him. She didn't need to look to know why he was pulling the nail polish bottle out of her hand.

“Jack,” she giggled as he pressed her slowly but firmly into the mattress, his fingers tugging at the sash of her robe. “Careful, they’re still wet.”

“I’ll paint them again,” he promised distractedly against her lips and she laughed harder at his solution.

“You'll find it helps to undress first,” she reminded him, pulling his undershirt up his back. He removed it and moved on to his trousers as she discarded the robe lying beneath her and inserted her family planner.

His wolfish grin as he climbed back over top of her told her she was in for it and she did nothing to deter him.

She slipped her knees over shoulders and he gave a small grunt of approval before guiding himself into her.

“Oh…” She had forgotten how tight she could feel when he took her this way. She licked her lips as he pulled out of her slowly and entered her again, both of them adjusting to a better angle. “Ohhh, yes.” She took him as deep as she could. It felt delicious.

“Phryne. Christ,” he muttered above her as he picked up the pace, his jaw tightening with every thrust.

She understood. Every slide of their flesh built a fire, spreading through her until her skin was prickling with dew and her lungs were burning and she had no choice but to let it consume her.

She came with a cry, clutching the sheets beside her in ecstasy. She was still shuddering when Jack came with a shout.

He pulled out of her and fell backwards onto the bed, exhausted.

She set her shaking legs down beside him for lack of any other options and he swung his head to the left, examining her toes without ever lifting his head from the bed.

“Still perfect,” he announced the verdict with a smile.

"Wonderful," she sighed.


	8. Awe

_Egypt, thou knew’st too well_

_My heart was to thy rudder tied by th’ strings,_

_And thou shouldst tow me after. O’er my spirit_

_Thy full supremacy thou knew’st, and that_

_Thy beck might from the bidding of the gods_

_Command me._

_-Antony, Antony and Cleopatra, Act 3, Scene 11_

When he found her, she was readying herself at her vanity. She was wearing a black silk robe with an elaborate design embroidered on the back and brushing her hair with a practiced ease.  

Preparing for a scandalous night on the town, no doubt, he thought to himself as he smiled unseen from the hallway.

“It’s a beautiful dress, Miss,” the maid said as she hung up a garment on the dressing shade. “The gentleman is lucky indeed.”

“There isn’t a gentleman, Martha. It’s simply a dinner with friends,” she reminded the maid with a roll of her eyes.

“Would you like there to be?” Jack asked casually.

Phryne froze at the sound of the voice. She turned around to see him leaning in the doorway as if he had always been there.

“Jack.” She covered her mouth and the small brush fell from her hand with a clatter as it hit a mirror or some glass jar on the way down.

His smirk fell from his face as he realized she looked shocked, rather than surprised.

The maid darted from the room, closing the door behind her.

“Oh you foolish man, what have you done?” She inquired as she made her way towards him. “I was teasing. I never expected you to actually…”

“I know. I wanted to be here. I had to be here,” he assured her as he pulled her into his arms and held her close. She melted into him like butter, weakly forgetting her argument before coming to her senses once more.  

“What about your position?” She asked.

“Waiting for me when I return.” He stroked her cheek, wanting her to calm down.

“And the cost?”

“The first holiday I’ve taken since the war ended. Don’t worry. Everything was arranged and handled.”

“But I was coming back! It wasn’t worth the risk,” she scolded him, despite the fact that he was already here.

But he heard what she was really saying: _she_ wasn’t worth the risk.

“I beg to differ.” He leaned in and kissed her slowly. When they parted, he leaned his forehead against hers, eyes closed, just breathing her in. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” she replied before sweeping him up into another long kiss.

He didn’t break away from her, even as she pulled him towards the bed. He felt her jolt as the back of her legs found the bed and they took that as their cue to begin undressing each other.

He undid the sash of her robe and dropped it to her feet with a silent swish. The silk slip she wore did little to hide her need. Her chest was flush and her nipples called out to be sucked.

All the blood in him rushed south as his greedy cock sprung to life.

Phryne was already two steps ahead of him, unbuttoning his trousers while he stood captivated by her, so he moved on to his waistcoat and tie, disrobing as quickly as his shaking hands would let him.

When she realized he had taken over, she pulled away from him to insert her family planner. The pause gave him a few precious moments to gather his breath and lose the last of his clothes. When he looked up again, he was stark naked and hard as iron for her.

She wore a smile that he knew all too well as she lifted her slip over her head and tossed it towards him playfully.

_Come after me, Jack Robinson._

OOOOO

Jack’s fingers danced over the small of her back as she sat up at the edge of the bed.

“Have I mentioned how glad I am to be here?” He asked, setting his wrist on her thigh.  

“Yes.” She picked up his hand. “You foolish, foolish man,” she murmured into his open palm before kissing it. Clearly, she was still not ready to forgive him for nearly throwing away his life to chase her around the world.

She headed into the bathroom and Jack finally took notice of the room around him. The beaded dress still hung forgotten from her dressing shade.

“Where were you meant to be tonight?” Jack asked as he propped himself up on his arm.

“Oh, some silly party. Friends of friends,” she called back over the running water of the faucet.

“Did you have an escort for the evening?” He asked knowingly.

There was a long pause.

“Not in so many words.” Her pitch went up an octave and Jack bit back a laugh, grateful she couldn’t see the reaction.

“No?” Jack smiled at her discomfort. The poor man was probably sitting alone at a dinner right now and, having been on the other side of Phryne’s shifting plans, Jack couldn’t say he envied him.

“There was someone I was going to meet there but he is already married and on top of that, I’m…” she stuck her head around the door, “ _not his type,_ ” she hinted dramatically.

“Ah,” Jack nodded as she disappeared from view again.

“I shouldn’t say anymore. You know him.”

“I do?” He called out louder with a frown, wondering if he misheard her.

“Yes, in fact, you are quite adept at playing his music.”

It took Jack a moment to comprehend what she was referring to, but even then, he needed more time to process what she was saying. He glanced over at her dress before looking back at the bathroom.

She couldn’t be serious.

“Phryne? Did you throw over Cole Porter for me?” Jack asked in a state of disbelief.

“And what if I did?” She asked nonchalantly as she reappeared with her makeup removed and looking fresh-faced. She slithered in between him and the headboard and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Cole is even flightier than I am and besides, I’ve waited years for this. The King himself couldn't pry me out of your arms tonight,” she praised.

Jack shook his head, wondering if he would ever adjust to the dizzy way she was making him feel, like he was the most important thing in her life and simultaneously wildly undeserving of that same honor.

“I’m touched,” he chuckled as her lips found a ticklish patch behind his ear.

“Oh Jack, you should know by now that given the choice, I will always choose you.” She pressed a grin to the back of his neck.

“I will try to bear that in mind the next time I need to arrest you for withholding evidence from an officer of the law,” he replied dryly, knowing she wouldn’t hesitate to toss him aside the moment it appeased her.

He felt her roll her eyes as she tried to extricate herself from his embrace.

“Not so fast.” He kept her arms around him but found he was met with little resistance. “You’ve been gone too long. We need to make up for the lost time.”

“From the bed or from Australia?” She inquired with that smart attitude that he had missed so much.

“Both, of course.”

“And what are the penalties for such unforgivable absences?” She nibbled on his ear.

“Oh, I’ll be sure to let you know when the debt has been satisfied,” he promised.


	9. Disgust

“No, no, no, no, no, no.” Phryne chanted to herself as she pulled the cakes out of the oven. “Why? I followed the recipe exactly!” She asked the desserts as they fell immediately upon meeting the cool air. She tried to frost them but to her chagrin, it did little to help save the small treats.

It was just at this moment, the Inspector decided to walk through the kitchen door.

“Phryne? What are you…”

She turned around to hide the tray from his view.

“...doing?” He finished, a warning in his eye as he caught her doing something of which he would most likely disapprove.

“Experimenting,” she smiled casually. She knew how to market herself well enough anyway.

“Ex…” he was too exasperated to even finish the word, “in my kitchen?” He hung his hat up.

“It was supposed to be a treat,” she gave in, collapsing into the nearest chair in defeat.

“Oh.” He took a peek at the half-hearted desserts on the counter and back to her and he looked momentarily touched by the gesture. He poked at one to test its temperature before picking it up.

“Jack, you don't have to…”

He gamely tucked into the cake, willing to give it a fair shot. She watched as his chewing slowed over a few seconds and he swallowed the bit with a look of barely veiled disgust.

Phryne buried her face in the crook of her elbow.

“Not bad,” he blatantly lied, holding one out for her to eat her fair share.

“No, thank you,” she passed.

“Come now, where is that infamous recklessness?” He wondered out loud, laying the silent dare before her.

She shook her head emphatically as he came closer.

“I want to live!” She countered dramatically as she backed up.

“Your past behavior and associations suggest otherwise,” he stared pointedly. “Just one bite.”

“No!” She laughed.

“Phryne.” He cooled his features into a face too stern to be real.

“I won't!”

He darted towards her and she let out a squeal. She ran around the kitchen table, Jack right on her heels, until he backtracked in an impressive move she hadn’t been expecting and scooped her up with his left arm. She felt something moist hit her from the right.

She touched her face and gasped as she realized he had tried to smash the cake directly over her mouth and had only missed because she was wriggling.

The boyish look on Jack’s face, coupled with the shock on hers, surely made for an endearing tableau but the offense could not be tolerated. With lightning quick reflexes, she reached for the bottle of milk on the counter and before he could even cease his gloating, he was coated in the contents.

The dripping sound of milk hitting the floor as it fell down his body was the only sound in the silent kitchen as they stared each other down.

Her small snort broke the silence as Jack tried in vain to wipe his eyes clean with his fingers. When he found himself unsuccessful, he took yet another unexpected action. He reached down and unbuttoned his sopping shirt and threw it in the sink. She watched, wiping her own cheek clean of frosting and crumbs, as he stripped his undershirt off as well and used it as a towel before tossing it in the sink. He kept going until he was as naked as a jaybird, standing before her in his own kitchen.

“Your move, Miss Fisher.” He held her gaze brazenly and damn if her insides didn’t buckle in response.

She undid her blouse slowly, refusing to break eye contact with him. She moved to her trousers and her smalls and folded her arms defiantly.

He looked her up and down appraisingly before turning on his heel and silently leaving.

Phryne, never one to wait for instruction, immediately followed him into the bathroom where the shower head that she had gifted him with last Christmas (against his sputterings that preferring a shower and needing one installed were two different things) was being coerced into running by Jack’s insistent hand.

He stepped inside and Phryne slipped in behind him.

She washed her face in the waterfall, feeling cleaner already and Jack joined her under the spray. She reached for his bar of soap and worked it into a lather.

“I didn't bring you in here to get clean,” he whispered filthily as she scrubbed him down and she couldn't hide her surprised smile.

He kept interrupting her work with stray hands and lips but in the end, she won the battle and kept him at bay long enough to consider him clean.

“Are you done?” He asked as he backed her up against the tile.

She nodded.

“Good. Because I am dying to have you,” he growled. He caught her in a searing kiss as he pressed her hands up over her head. He trailed his mouth down her neck and between the valley of her breasts, teasing her with inattention where she wanted it most.

She felt his arousal pressing hard between their stomachs and she arched into it, unable to touch it herself.

He took himself in hand and teased her folds with his plump head, coating himself in her.

Her legs spread wider, wanting him inside her.

“Are you wearing anything?” He asked and she shook her head.

“You’ll have to come on me,” she egged him on, despite her passive position.

He gave her a dangerous look.

“Do you like that, Jack? Does it turn you on to see my bare skin dripping with your…”

He silenced her with an inflammatory kiss that turned her inside out and pressed her up against the shower wall. She lifted her foot up to rest on the tub for leverage as he slowly entered her.

She gasped as his cock stretched her out tightly.

“Jack... “ She panted, her hands slapping the tile in pleasure above her head.

At this angle, any movement felt impossibly good and he held her hands still as he worked hard and fast inside her.

Her inarticulate noises of pleasure and the slapping of wet flesh echoed loudly in the small space, only spurring them on.

She felt the embers in her belly catch flame and she began to chant along to the rhythm she needed to explode. She gave in, spasming hard against him as she fell forward into his arms.

Jack, content where he was, waited for her aftershocks to end before pulling out of her.

She reached down to hold him in her hand and with a few tight strokes, he was shouting her name as they both watched jets of pleasure land on Phryne’s wrist.

She used the now cold water to rinse herself off before turning the tap off. Jack found two towels and wrapped her up first before fixing his own around his waist.

“Hey,” he gestured for her to come closer. 

She did as she was told and it earned her a kiss.

“Sorry about the milk," she smiled. 

“Sorry about the runaround,” he replied.

“Never apologize for that. I like it when you catch me,” she admitted.

“Do you?”

“Especially when you make me pay for my insolence.” She bit her lip seductively.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he muttered, his mind already in the gutter as he looked her up and down.

“Good, because I have lived a very, _very_ sinful life, Inspector.” She slowly walked out of his arms, dropping her towel on the floor. “Someone _must_ hold me accountable.”

She left him staring, eyes transfixed to her, as she made her way toward his bedroom. She had just crossed the threshold when she heard him mutter a curse from the bathroom and she smiled.

He was willing to take the job.


	10. Gratitude

“Jack?”

Phryne’s voice called to him from the front door.

“In my office.” Jack stretched his neck, trying to ease the knot that came with staring at case files for over an hour without looking up.

“You don’t have an…” She paused as she saw the stack of files and notes scattered over his kitchen table.

“Take a seat,” he gestured to a chair.

“This is new,” she commented as she removed her gloves daintily and placed them in her handbag.

“Well, needs must,” Jack said as he pushed out the chair with his foot, sliding it out for her without getting up. She sat down across from him and he snagged his feet around the legs and pulled it in for her.

“Talented man,” she grinned at his unusual gallantry. He couldn’t muster anything else.

“And why are we burning the midnight oil?” She inquired as she picked up a file.

“A string of strangulation homicides, stretching from New South Wales over through Victoria. Someone is on the move.” He sighed as he threw a file down on the completed pile. “I’ve been assigned with trying to tracking him before he strikes again. So far, the only thing I can sort out is that he travels by train and the victims are fellow passengers. That only narrows it down to, what, about a thousand stops between us?”

“You have a map?” She asked as she stood up. He was about to turn it around for her to examine but she came over to his side of the table and peered over his shoulder. Her curious frown held his tired attention and he felt an inward burst of love for her as she studied his work. She really had no idea how captivating she could be.

“Are these the locations of the murders or the bodies?”

“Both. He kills within walking distance of the station and doesn't stick around to clean up the scene. He’s impatient.”

“Victims?”

“Whoever strikes his fancy, or incurs his wrath. It’s hard to say. There are men and women, young and old. No other signs of assault, nothing taken. He doesn’t even take souvenirs. ”

“There is no pattern because he doesn't have a plan,” she agreed thoughtfully. “He acts on instinct.”

“Zigzagging all over the state. No rhyme or reason, never sticking to a time table, demographic, company, or motive. It’s like he’s bored.” Jack tossed his pencil onto the table with a heavy sigh and pushed it back, needing the physical space from the problem.

“You’re exhausted. You need to clear your mind.” She began to massage his shoulders. “Take a break.”

“Mm.” He closed his eyes and smiled. “What would you recommend?” He asked as her lips found his ear.

“What do you need?” She asked as she leaned further into him, her hands smoothing their way down his shirt. “I’m happy to be of service.”

“I’m tempted to think your relaxation techniques are dangerous.”

“Quite the contrary. My techniques are as old as time itself,” she pointed out as her fingers began to loosen his shirt from his trousers. “After all, if it’s not broke…” She unbuttoned his fly and brought him out into the dim light. She sucked on her fingers before gripping him tightly and he groaned, but it wasn’t in protest.

She massaged his testicles before teasing his shaft with her open palm.

“Close your eyes,” she whispered as she rubbed his plump cock head, working it in her hand. “Lose yourself, clear your mind.”

His hand came down over hers, stopping her from teasing and guiding her into strokes. He felt her chest hitch against his back in arousal as he took the lead. It all seemed strangely intimate, touching her while she touched him. She squeezed him tighter and his nostrils flared as he exhaled sharply. 

"Relax, breathe." She kissed his neck and her warm breath tickled at his ear.

Jack cupped her left bicep tighter to his chest with his free hand as he felt himself flush with desire as she picked up speed. 

“Oh God, Phryne…” His ankles wrapped around the front legs of the chair for leverage as he arched up into their hands. He came with a quiet shudder, spilling into her hand. Every muscle in his body went from steel to jelly as he sank back into his chair.

He heard her faintly cleaning up and washing her hands but when he opened his eyes again, she was sitting on top of his map staring at him, conqueror of both him and his case.

“There now, doesn't that feel better?” She smiled, pleased that he had followed her commands. “I would check the victim's seat numbers, perhaps there is a trend there? Same seat or perhaps same row?”

“I’ll do that. Tomorrow,” he added as he stood up and tucked himself back into his trousers. “Let's go to bed.”

“You go on without me, darling. I’m going to look at this a little longer.” She took his seat at the table. “I won't be long.”

“Mmhm.” He knew better. “Tea is by the kettle,” he informed her with a kiss to the top of the head.

A raised hand of acknowledgement was all he received as he dragged himself off to bed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If kitchen hand jobs are your sort of kink, may I also direct you to "Drop trou" by our dear DeVereWinterton who wrote a splendidly longer encounter that made me reluctant to post this, even weeks later. It's great!


	11. Fear

“And to miracles,” Phryne finished his toast dryly as she downed her drink in a single shot as the two men who affected her the most, the Inspector and the Criminal, watched on.

God help her.

“Well, I believe I’ve ruined quite a few of your plans this week, my dear,” Henry said as he finished his drink. “I’ll leave you to discuss what I’m sure will be my many faults and failures.” He gave a knowing look to his daughter before exiting the parlor with a flourish.

“Good night!” Phryne sang sarcastically and she felt Jack’s observant eyes on her but she couldn’t look at him quite yet. As soon as she heard the front door slam, she sat down in the chair with a huff. “And that, Inspector Robinson, is Lord Henry George Fisher, Baron of Richmond.”

“You know, I never did get a chance to apologize for _my_ behavior the other evening,” Jack mentioned.

“What rot,” she scolded him. “If anything, I owe you an apology. I cancelled on you once and then I was unconscionably late the second time, leaving you to think God knows what.”

“Timing is something we’ve never seemed to master,” he agreed. He looked down as he said it and Phryne was once again reminded that Jack’s feelings for her were sometimes bigger than she let herself realize.

“I never meant to give you the wrong impression, Jack,” she murmured quietly, feeling cruel.

“You don’t need to…” He held up his hand.

“I do.” She moved towards the edge of her chair. “When I invited you to supper, I had planned...” She felt her anger and frustration at her father rise in her chest and she took a second to tamp it down so she could speak clearly. “I wanted to discuss the future with you.”

“The future?” He questioned, his curious face came naturally, overriding the fear in his eyes.

“Ending ‘the parade of men’, as I believe you so eloquently called it last night.” The lilt in her voice was deliberate, but mostly teasing.

“I see,” he muttered, turning only a slight shade of red as he sat down on the chaise.

It stirred something inside her and she wanted to cup the blushing flesh in her hand. She fought the urge by folding her hands together and setting them in her lap.

“Jack?” She took a deep breath, about to admit something she’d been denying even to herself. “I wanted to tell you that it had already ended, even before your monologue in my parlor.”

Jack’s eyes shot up in surprise.

“When one of the most important people in your life decides to walk out of it, it forces deep introspection,” she pointed out. “I would never jeopardize our relationship, in any form, for something so trivial.”

He considered her statement carefully. When he didn’t speak, she moved to sit next to him on the chaise.

“Jack Robinson, are you frightened of me?” She asked him, reading his quiet, thoughtful expression for what it was.  

He smiled at the question.

“A bit,” he nodded before raising his eyes to see her smile. “I’m not one for unknowns.”

“Well then,” she slid in close to him, “I suppose it’s time we made some things clear.” She looked into his eyes for only a moment to make sure he wasn’t going to run, and when she was certain she had his attention, she kissed him slowly but confidently. He gave into the kiss rather quickly and they settled into the chaise, in no rush to move beyond exploring each other. When she did finally pull away from him, she felt the loss deep in her chest.

“Is that a yes?” She asked. “Do you want to be with me?”

“You understand you’re giving up all that excitement for a bland policeman in a blue wool suit?” He murmured, a mischievous glint in his eye.

“Is that how you’re feeling right now? Bland?” She raised her eyebrow knowingly as her hand moved up his thigh. “Because if so, I need to work a little _harder_.”

He groaned into her neck as her hand massaged him through his trousers.

She was both delighted and surprised by the small defensive maneuver he gave that sent her onto her back.

Jack took merely a second to remove his suit coat before setting his hands on the arm rest above her head and hovering over her.

Her pulse raced at seeing him above her. It was even better than she’d hoped it would be.

“You’re playing with fire, Miss Fisher,” he warned.

“In front of a bland policeman? I would never.” She tsked the thought and it drew his attention to her mouth. She wet her lips seductively and watched him get impossibly still. She shifted a little deeper underneath him.

“You would love nothing more.” He knew her too well. “You’re already calculating how to get me to take you right here in the parlor.” He raised his eyebrow, daring her to deny it.

“And you’re already concerned because your resolve is slipping,” she countered, letting her hands come up from her sides to settle on his biceps, holding him above her.

“It’s not going to slip here, I can promise you that,” he assured her and she believed him.

“Standards, I see,” she complimented him. “And what would happen if we moved locations?”

“Upstairs?” He clarified.

“Upstairs, to a hotel, to the back of the Hispano. I’m willing to negotiate.”

“How refreshing,” he grinned before he drew her closer for another kiss.

“Jack, I’m lying underneath you, telling you that you can have me whenever and however you want and you’re being glib,” she warned with a nibble to his ear.

“Right,” he nodded, getting back to business. “We were moving.” He slid back to let her sit up.

She paused.

“You’re coming upstairs?” She asked breathlessly.

“Only if you agree,” he replied.

She scoffed.

“I’ve wanted you for so long, I can't remember when I didn't,” she confessed as she slipped a hand into his, requesting his help off the sofa. He pulled her up into his arms and she settled into his embrace like she was made to be there.

“Then I’m coming upstairs,” he murmured and she practically shivered.

She led him to her bedroom, shutting the door quietly behind him, and took him in.

“Twice in as many days,” she smiled. “I’m getting spoiled, Jack.” She made her way towards him, unpinning her black and gold lace overlay and setting it carefully aside.

“And yet somehow, I’ve lost out on three dinners,” he smirked as he dragged a finger along her freshly bare arm. “Mr. Butler is going to stop cooking entirely when I am invited over.”

“Never.” She unclipped her gold fascinator and began taking out her earrings. “He has been prepping that dining room all night to make sure everything was perfect for you. And besides, we have plenty of evening left for supper after we've worked up an appetite.” She let him kiss her, smiling as he took the liberty of palming her backside to bring her close enough to feel his erection hardening. She ran the tip of her tongue behind his teeth, teasing him before backing away.

“Help me with my dress.” She spun around. She had fantasized about his fingers undoing every garment she owned since she had met him and now that she had him here, she wasn't about to miss out on the opportunity.

His hands reached down and lifted the dress, sliding his hands over her thighs, up her hips, and dipping into her waist.

She lifted her hands over her head and he pulled the entire garment over her, leaving her in her lingerie.

He placed warm, open-mouth kisses along her shoulders and the back of her neck and her head fell forward in silent obedience.

His mouth moved further south down her spine, never stopping until he met the small of her back.

Unable to steady herself on anything in front of her, she wobbled slightly and his hand came up to rest on her bare stomach. She covered it with both of hers, pressing it tightly to her.

Jack slipped his fingers into her silk and finished his task of undressing her. He placed a kiss to her hip as he spun her around to look up at her and she wove her hands through his hair as she looked down with loving, lustful eyes.

He was still fully dressed but he ran a finger through her damp folds, teasing her. She tugged at his hair tighter as he slipped inside her for the first time, curling expertly and making her bite her lip as a strangled noise caught in her throat. He watched her reaction as he added a second finger and she hummed, eyes tightly closed as she relished in his movements.

She would have never believed it, but he leaned forward and began casually kissing her, experimentally sucking and tonguing the most sensitive part of her.

The moan of approval was the only encouragement he needed.

She was panting heavily as Jack Robinson unapologetically fucked her with his fingers and tongue, all while she was still standing.

She came with a jagged cry, pulsing around his fingers as he slowed his ministrations.

“Oh my God, Jack,” she muttered as he stood up and she fell against his chest.

“You taste like heaven,” he murmured in her ear and she looked up to see him sucking his fingers clean.

Bland policeman, my arse, she thought.

Jack, her Jack, was the one who had just sent her reeling through the most exquisite…

Her heart began to pound and she set her shaking hands to loosening his tie, needing to focus on something else. She stripped him of his clothes quickly and began to pull him into her bed but Jack could sense the shift in her mood as her epiphanies began falling like dominoes.

“Hey, slow down.” He settled beside her under her covers and looked into her eyes curiously before recognition bloomed there.

He saw too much with those knowing eyes; she could never hide from him.

“Are you afraid of me, Miss Fisher?” He asked, the familiar tilt of his head undoing her.

“No,” she shook her head.

Jack smiled softly.

“You’re shaking.”

“You’ll understand in a few minutes,” she promised as she closed the distance between them and he settled over her carefully. He guided himself inside her slowly and she watched his face change as he filled her. The familiar blue of his eyes darkened, his muscles flexed under her hands, and he began to move within her.

Phryne knew in that moment that nothing would ever be the same.

The intimacy with which he made love to her was unlike anything else that she had ever experienced and she understood why he demanded monogamy. This view of sex, this level of connection, couldn't possibly exist without it.

She felt the last domino fall and she knew what she had to give him.

“I love you,” she whispered breathlessly as she came in a long, rolling wave that rocked her from her head to her toes.

Between her words and her body, Jack broke down, coming inside her with a long, deep thrust that claimed her as his own.

She held him tight, wanting to keep him inside her as long as possible. His curls were appearing and she couldn't resist running a hand through his wild hair.

He rolled beside her and she pouted with loss. He was still trying to find his breath when he opened his arm to her and she settled in the crook of his elbow.

“I love you,” he finally replied, kissing the top of her head.

Her breath caught a little at his words and her eyes fluttered shut.

“Thank you for waiting for me.” She looked up at him.

He simply nodded and held her a little closer.

It was all he needed to say.


	12. Rebellious

Jack wiggled his tie and looked around the ballroom, longing for any excuse to leave. He had never felt more stifled and the war profiteer bragging about his munition sales was doing little to help the situation.

“Fields of men were on my conscience, they said,” the man huffed. “Can you imagine? It’s not my fault the country needed protection and we could provide it. I’m proud of our service.”

Jack felt his mouth go dry and he turned to the woman on his left to see if her conversation was going any better.

“Miss Fisher, don't you find working murder cases to be unseemly for a woman?” The fellow’s wife raised her chin in disgust.

Phryne must have felt Jack’s hackles rise even higher in defense of her because she put her hand on his arm to keep him quiet.

“Well, once you know what it means to wade through fields of men, the one seems much more manageable. Excuse me,” she said as she left the group immediately, leaving the couple shocked by her rudeness.

Jack watched her long enough to see where she was going before turning to the couple again.

“You’ll have to excuse Miss Fisher,” Jack apologized, “she spent the war years saving men, rather than profiting off their deaths,” he explained politely. “Good evening,” he dismissed himself from another second in their stunned presence.

He found her on the back patio, white knuckling the stone fence in front of her. That someone had affected her this much sent a molten rage flowing through him, but he tried to hide it as he walked up beside her.

“Phryne…”

“Don't worry about it, Jack,” she waved it off with a sigh. “They’re not worth the effort.”

“No, I’m glad you let them have it,” he admitted as he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him.

“You know that I’m never one to hold my tongue unless I have a good reason,” she reminded him, her hand coming to rest comfortably on his chest.

“I do rather prefer when you use it,” he murmured into the shell of her ear, changing the subject.

“Is that a request, Inspector?” She couldn’t resist licking her lips.

“Perhaps later.” He placed his hand securely on her back. “For now, let’s enjoy the rest of our evening.” Rather than turn around, he ushered her down the lush green lawn towards the lake at the back of the property.

“Where are you taking me? Jack!” She gasped in that way that told him she was secretly delighted with his actions.

He found a small, open air boat house, storing a wooden boat made for two and he smiled.

“Care for a midnight row around the lake, Miss Fisher?” He asked as he reached for her hand.

“We’d be breaking several laws, Inspector,” she reminded him, a glint now in her eye.

“I thought the pirate girls of Collingwood were used to commandeering ships that didn’t belong to them?” He awaited her response but she only beamed.

“What has gotten into you?” She asked as she gave him her hand.

He helped her into the front of the boat first before stepping in himself.

“A memory,” he smiled slyly. “Of a woman who assured me that she hadn’t taken anything seriously since 1918, which I now know to be patently false, but tonight, the sentiment feels true.”

He installed the oars and they made their way silently out under the full moon.

“Tell me the risks weren’t worth the reward,” he whispered as he looked up at the stars.

She looked around the dark property, the smell of fresh water and flowers surrounding them, only the moon above.

Jack couldn’t help but stare at her pale skin, blue in the moonlight, as if she were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen and she visibly relaxed.

“You’re pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?” She gleaned.

“A little,” he confessed.

“Well you should be. As far as romantic overtures go, this one is setting the bar pretty high.”

He gestured for her to come closer with a wag of his finger, testing his limits.

She made her way over to his seat, careful in her slip of a silk evening gown, and he sat her impossibly close to him. She slipped out of her heels and rested her feet on the bench in front of them before leaning back carefully, lying across the seats of the boat on her back. Jack requisitioned his dress jacket, folding it to use as a pillow, before joining her.

They stayed like that, quietly watching the stars, for a long while.

“This feels like a dream,” Phryne murmured, “floating through the sky.”

“Just a change in perspective.” 

“You do that a lot, don't you? Change my perspective,” she realized.

“Do I?” He would never argue the point but was interested in hearing more.

“Every day,” she confirmed.

He smiled at the compliment and kissed her.

Suddenly, a crack of lightning flashed above them and they both looked up in concern.

“Time to row, Miss Fisher,” he warned as he sat back up. He managed to make it halfway back before the deluge struck.

Phryne couldn't help but laugh as she became drenched, her silk dress as ruined as her makeup, no doubt.

As Jack neared the dock, he hopped out and tied the boat back in place under the safety of the roof.

Phryne helped herself out and as soon as he was done with his work, she pulled him in for a searing kiss that took his breath away. She placed herself along the wall and pulled him against her. He let himself get unapologetically and utterly lost in her.

She began unbuckling his belt and he separated from her long enough to unbutton his trousers and drop them to the dock.

Jack faintly registered that this was a bad idea but the dark and the rain and the seclusion meant no one was likely to discover them and that was good enough for him.

She lost her undergarments and wrapped her legs around his waist. Her gasp as he plunged into her warm body, sheathing himself to the hilt, was worth the risk.

Their frantic coupling was more akin to young lovers fumbling through their soaked layers, as if a chaperone might catch them at any moment. But when they came, it was together, Jack’s neck buried in hers, hearing his name in his ear as she cried out in release.

She was shivering when he pulled away to look at her, and he couldn’t ascertain if it was from the rain or the orgasm.

“Are you alright?” He asked, wiping her dripping bangs out of her eyes.

She nodded and they did their best to put themselves together and wait for the rain to let up. He gave her his jacket and wrapped his arms around her, holding her close, but with their wet clothes, it didn't do much.

“I think we're going to have to take one last risk,” he decided at last. “What do you think, Miss Fisher? One last mad escape?” He asked her opinion.

She just smiled and gave him her hand.


	13. Paranoia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Implied smut in this one...

“Oh my, what a lovely looking group,” Prudence Stanley smiled as Jack, Phryne, and Jane made their way into her annual New Year's party. “Inspector, thank you for joining us this year. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate everything that you’ve done for our family these past few weeks.”

“Thank you for the invitation, Mrs. Stanley,” he smiled awkwardly.

“Aunt P. You’re embarrassing Jack. He’s an extremely humble man.” Phryne turned to smirk at him as she squeezed his arm lovingly.

“And Jane. You look very beautiful tonight.”

“Thank you,” she smiled, her new dress swirling as Phryne looked on proudly.

They made their way over to the table of food before Phryne leaned in close.

“Excellent work, you two. Now Jane, you have my full permission to hide in the library but you have to check in every hour, alright?”

Jane nodded.

“I suppose that leaves me to entertain you for the evening.” Jack glanced warily around at the black ties and ball gowns surrounding him.

“I’d settle for a dance or two,” she said slyly.

“Didn’t I just save your life?” He reminded her.

“Funny, I thought I was the one who saved yours.” Her retort made him smile and he shook his head and held out his hand.

“There was a time, Miss Fisher, when I could be accused of having a backbone.”

“Don’t worry, Jack. Stronger men than you have been broken in far less time,” she assured him.

“I never doubted it,” he concurred before dancing her around the floor.

OOOOO

“This is quite the event,” the woman next to her stated and Phryne smiled.

“Aunt Prudence doesn’t do things by halves,” she grinned.

The woman beside her looked surprised before nodding in understanding.

“You’re the infamous niece that I’ve heard so much about!” She smiled.

“It’s safe to assume most of it is true,” Phryne warned. “Phryne Fisher.” She held out her hand.

“Rosie Sanderson. Your aunt and my mother were old friends.”

“Oh, yes. I’ve heard her speak of the Sandersons. Your father is the Deputy Commissioner, isn't he?”

“He is.”

“Then you may be familiar with my escort for the evening.” She sought him out in the crowd. “That tall, lanky man deep in conversation with my ward Jane about the merits of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle and Agatha Christie? That’s City South’s Senior Detective Inspector Jack Robinson.”

Rosie’s face had gone ashen and she swallowed hard.

“We’ve met.”

“You have?”

“Yes, in fact, up until last week, I was his wife,” she informed Phryne before taking a long swig of her drink.

It was Phryne’s turn to go pale.

“I’m so sorry. I didn’t...” She stuttered before finding her ground in steely determination once more. “I’m going to murder him,” she confessed, premeditation be damned.

“His ghost would simply rise out of his body and solve the case,” Rosie rolled her eyes knowingly.

Phryne scoffed at the truthfulness of the statement.

At just that moment, Jack seemed to sense he was being discussed and he looked across the room at the pair.

“Smile wide,” Phryne requested as she waved her fingers at him, both of them taunting him with big grins. The color drained from his face almost instantly.

“That may have been worth it,” Phryne allowed with an evil chuckle. “Is he coming over?”

“As fast as he can,” Rosie said as she left to meet him halfway, clearly wanting a private word.

Phryne watched in interest as they spoke in the hushed, intimate tones of people who have spent their entire lives together. Jack looked up quickly with fire in his eyes over something she said but Rosie didn’t flinch, knowing full well he’d never cause a scene, let alone at a party. Phryne found her incredibly intriguing.

She looked away as Jack left his ex-wife behind him and made his way towards her.

“Don’t you start with me,” Phryne warned as he came to stand beside her.

“I didn’t know she would be here.”

“I didn’t know her name,” Phryne spat bitterly.

It was an argument he couldn't win and he looked away from her.

“Does she think we’re...” Phryne asked.

“No. Well, not anymore.” He sighed.

“Do you want to leave? I could have Cec and…”

“No.”

Phryne closed her mouth, clearly not going to be able to finish a single thought when he was so snappy.

“Miss Fisher, may I have this dance?” A charming man oversold himself, given her current company.

“Yes. You may.” She gave her hand to the stranger and with one last glance at Jack, she left him by himself.

OOOOO

Phryne got sidetracked into conversation after conversation and before she knew it, she’d lost sight of Jane and Jack. She wandered around the ballroom before Prudence saw her.

“Is everything alright, dear?”

“Have you seen Jane?”

“No, I thought she was with you,” Prudence replied.

Phryne’s heart began to pound and she headed off for the library. She burst through the door only to find Jane asleep on the sofa, covered in Jack's formal jacket. Jack, in his shirtsleeves, was lost in a book.

“What's wrong?” He bolted up out of his leather chair.

“Nothing, I just thought…”

He knew what she meant immediately.

“No. We’re fine. Jane didn’t want to be alone and I didn’t want her to be alone either, if I'm being honest,” Jack admitted as he closed his book and set it aside. “Perhaps we overestimated our bravery tonight?” He suggested.

“As much as I would love to avoid this house, it's not a very practical solution.”

“True,” he reluctantly agreed as they both turned to look at a sleeping Jane.

“Would you mind helping carry her to the car?” She asked. “I’ll give Aunt P. our early regards.”

“This is starting to become a habit.” He groaned quietly as he slipped his arms under the young girl.

“What is?” She asked.

“Carrying unconscious Wardlow residents to the car.”

Phryne sighed and caressed his shoulder gently for all that they had put him through, and all that he had done in return, as Jack carried Jane silently out the door.

OOOOO

When they pulled up to Wardlow, Phryne woke Jane and led her upstairs. She tucked her in before heading back down to thank Jack for escorting them home, but she found him staring into the fire in the parlor.

“I'm sorry about tonight,” she began. “I’m sure running into your ex-wife was not the way you wanted to spend your evening. Even our attempts to save your holiday seem to ruin it.

“Don't give yourself too much credit, Miss Fisher. The divorce would have done that quite nicely all on its own.” He handed her a drink and she downed it quickly.

“Are you alright?” Jack asked, changing the subject.

“I had hoped tonight might be a distraction.” She collapsed onto the sofa and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “But it's harder to move on with Jane in the picture. I'm constantly looking over her shoulder as well as my own. I can’t bear the thought of anything else happening to her.”

“She's tougher than you think,” Jack praised. “It was her quick thinking that saved our lives. You would have been proud of her. She was calm and thoughtful under pressure. She reminded me of you.”

“She shouldn’t have had to be any of those things. I was supposed to keep her safe.”

Jack sighed and sat beside her, resting his arm across the top of the couch. He smelled of cologne or aftershave, she wasn't sure which, but it made her turn towards the man beside her in gratitude.

“I’m sorry. I'm just tired,” she excused her melancholy as she set her glass down on a table. She still hadn't resolved the last week's events and on top of that, twenty years worth of grieving were hitting her like a massive tidal wave.

“You should get some sleep. Everything will look better in the morning,” he assessed.

“It's a good a lie as any,” she supposed.

“Phryne,” he shook his head, clearly disagreeing with her, “you did what you came here to do. Janey was found. Foyle will hang. You get to breathe now,” he reminded her. “It’s over.”

“A new year, a new life?” She murmured. “For both of us.” She nudged his knee briefly with her own.

Jack hesitated only a moment before nodding.

“I wouldn't have survived the last few months without you, Jack.” She placed her hand on his thigh and looked over at him sincerely. “Thank you.”

“You certainly gave me a run for my money,” he scolded and she laughed.

“Maybe I just like being rescued,” she posited.

“I sincerely doubt that,” he chuckled into his drink.

“You've never been rescued by Jack Robinson,” she praised. “You're quite good at it.”

“Mm.” He swallowed his whiskey and she watched it slide down his throat. “All the same, I think I've earned some time off.”

“I’ll just have to find other ways to get you into my parlor,” she teased but when she met his eye, she realized that she meant it. She wanted more of his time.

“What did you have in mind?” He asked, his eyes fixed on her lips.

“You still owe me a dance or two,” she recalled.

“So I do.” He stood up and held out his hand.

She looked at him, uncertain of what he was playing at, but she gave him her hand all the same.

He pulled her to her feet and into his embrace, much tighter than the ballroom dance they had shared earlier. She set her head against his shoulder, melting into him as he held out her hand to the side.

They began to rock side to side, two exhausted people relying on each other to hold themselves upright.

Phryne wove her fingers with his, holding tighter and his forehead came down to rest against hers.

We'll be alright, you and me.

A shiver went down her spine as she realized she had understood him without so much as opening his mouth. She looked up into his eyes in surprise of how quickly the situation was developing and he doubled down on his bet, leaning in to kiss her gently.

Oh, he truly did know how to kiss.

Despite her better judgment, she deepened the kiss, her heart pounding in her chest in fear and excitement of what the action might cost her but to her surprise, he didn’t push her away.

When the kiss did finally end, Phryne opened her eyes again.

Stay, she requested, wondering if the telepathy worked both ways.

He nodded and she smiled slowly. She took his hand and led him up the stairs to her bedroom quietly, careful not to wake the household.

It wasn’t until later, while they were snoozing comfortably in each other’s arms, that Phryne realized they had missed the turning of the clock.

“Happy New Year, Inspector,” she whispered to the man currently draped around her back.

He chuckled softly as he realized how they had spent their evening. 

“There's no one else I'd rather spend it with,” he replied honestly before kissing the back of her neck.

Phryne closed her eyes.

They would be alright, she and him. 


	14. Surprise

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always wanted to play with the idea that Phryne takes her father home as soon as she learns her mother doesn’t know where he is. This is that trial, we'll say it takes place after 3x1 but the goodbye was the same.

The phone was protesting his tardiness by shrilly ringing as he unlocked the front door.

“Yes, yes, I hear you,” he muttered under his breath as he rushed to the phone.

“Inspector Robinson,” Jack answered at last, a little out of breath.

“Hello, Jack.”

The playfully seductive sound of her voice didn’t register at first. It had been so long since he had heard it. His dumbfounded silence must have amused her because he heard her smile through the silence.

“Have I caught you at a bad time, Inspector?” She wondered with a voice that turned his knees to jelly as he slid down the parlor wall to the floor. He leaned his head back and sighed.

“Phryne.” It was all he could manage. His brain had left him. “Are you home?”

“Not quite. I’ll be home by the weekend but I couldn’t wait another second to hear your voice. I’m calling from the hotel but it’s meant to storm tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll get home until Saturday.”

“How was your trip thus far?” He was buying time to think of a response to her confession, but he couldn’t do that until he was sure that she was safe.

“It’s much easier flying alone, as you might imagine. How are things in Melbourne? What have I missed?”

“Not much, I’m afraid. Everything is about the same.”

“Then how are you?” She asked, her voice softer. He could practically feel her tugging on his lapels as she said it. His heart ached for her.

“I miss you,” he confessed intimately. He had made a decision while she was away that he was going to act as though their kiss on the airfield was a beginning and not a goodbye. He was coming after her, just as she requested.

“I know. I miss you too,” she whispered. “It wasn’t fair, him swooping in on the very night we were going to...”

She stopped mid-sentence.

“We were going to what?” He prodded, the distance giving him courage. He wanted to hear what she had in mind.

“Have dinner,” she covered poorly and he laughed, outright, at her failure. They’d both known precisely what her invitation held when he’d accepted it.

“Is that what they call it now?” He chuckled.

“I had a plan,” she huffed. “I had candles and wine and lingerie. I was going to invite you to stay for a nightcap and then seductively take the whiskey bottle upstairs and make you follow me slowly step by step until you were driven mad with desire.”

“It would have worked,” he gave his word and she chuckled at his honesty. “And it still will,” he added and her chuckling stopped.

“Jack…” The single syllable conveyed all the feeling she had for him, not the least of which was her undying love for his dedication.

“It won’t be long.” He said it for both of their sakes.

“What will happen then?” She asked and he knew why she was asking. She wanted something to stem the tide. “What’s _your_ plan, Jack?”

Jack closed his eyes, the question had been on his own mind for weeks.

“To kiss you until your lungs and knees give out,” he murmured hoarsely before listening to her reaction. Her breath quickened and he felt the air shift around him. He wanted more. “To undress you, wrap your soft body around mine, and make love to you all night long.”

She let out a soft mewl of a moan and he couldn’t help undoing his belt.

“Tell me more, Jack.”

“Are you touching yourself, Miss Fisher?” He asked, already knowing the answer.

“Yes,” she panted.

“Are you wet for me?”

“Yes.”

He groaned as he began to stroke himself tightly.

“How does it feel?” He asked.

“I want it to be you. Your hands, your mouth, your cock.”

Fuck.

“Talk to me, Jack,” she moaned. “Say anything, I need to hear your voice.”

He inhaled deeply, drawing every last drop of will he had for her. He let go of his erection, wanting to focus on getting her off.

“Phryne, this is the last time you will ever have to imagine what it feels like to be with me. In two days, it _will_ be my hands, my mouth, and my cock inside you.”

She moaned and Jack's entire body twitched.

“I want to be the one making you moan like that, Phryne. I want to watch your eyes close as you climb, see your body writhing, feel you pulsating tightly around my hard cock as I come inside you.”

A long cry of pleasure hit his ears and Jack heard the phone fall a little further from her lips.

He finished himself off, hard and fast, the distant sounds of her panting and moaning as she came filled in the gaps of his own imagination and his orgasm ripped through his body like lightning.

“Jack?” He heard her pick up the phone once more. “Jack, are you there?”

He let out an exhausted hum of acknowledgment and she chuckled.

“This was not how I imagined our first time together,” she admitted.

“This doesn't count,” he disagreed. “We're still alone.”

“This was better though,” she pointed out and he couldn't argue.

“I'm sure the trunk operator would agree.” He swiped a bead of sweat from his brow with his wrist and she laughed.

“Where are you?” She finally wondered, having never set foot in his home.

“Sitting on the floor of the parlor, looking wholly depraved. You?”

“In the phone booth of the lobby,” she replied and Jack choked on air.

“I'm kidding,” she scolded him for believing her. “I'm in my hotel room, naked, about to slip into the bath.”

“Tomorrow then?”

“Maybe,” she cautioned for what had to be the first time in her life.

“Coy to the end, Miss Fisher,” he smiled but the pride was evident in his voice.

“Says the never-ending source of mystery.”

“Until our next investigation then,” he rephrased his familiar line and he could hear her smile across the continent.

“I'll look forward to it.”


	15. Pride

_Phryne was full of polite small talk, discussing her fundraising committee as Jack watched on, analyzing her features carefully._

_"What's wrong?” Jack asked._

_“Nothing is wrong.” But her statement became a demand he play along as soon as it left her lips. She sounded remarkably like her mother and that fact alone cut her deep._

_“I’ve known you long enough to know when you’re being a diversion," Jack sighed._

_“And what am I diverting from?” She inquired, setting down her fork. “Mr. Butler’s first course?”_

_“Phryne, I didn’t come here to dine with the Honourable Miss Fisher. I prefer my own.”_

_“Your own?!” She screeched._

_Jack realized his mistake immediately, pushing back from the table at his own stupidity._

_“That’s not what I....”_

_“I am no one else's but my own, thank you very much.”_

_“That much is clear.” He stood up. "I can't believe this,” he muttered as he made his way towards the foyer to retrieve his things._

_She followed behind him, unable to leave a fight she hadn't won._

_“I mean, after all that we've been through, you still want to put on an act? In front of me?” He chased her gaze, demanding her attention when she couldn't meet his eye. “What are you so afraid of?”_

_“I’m not afraid of anything!” Phryne defended, giving him what he wanted and looking him straight in the eye._

_Jack stared her down seriously, making her insides churn with insecurity._

_“And that’s the problem,” he pointed his hat towards her before putting it on. “Goodnight, Miss Fisher.”_

_Phryne waited until the door slammed shut before dropping her proud countenance, uncrossing her arms and letting his words hit their target._

_In the end, she_   _had abandoned both her mask and her pride within a few hours, sneaking into his home in the dead of night, unable to wait until morning to make things right._

_She found him sleeping in bed with a book beside him when she opened his bedroom door. The lamp at his bedside was casting a warm glow on his bare chest and her heart clenched at the sight of him. She very nearly turned around and left him there, unwilling to disrupt the precious sight even for her own gain, but he stirred all the same._

_“Phryne?” His eyes flickered open. “What are you doing here? It's so late," he realized as he looked at the clock._

_“Too late?” She asked, her voice threatening to leave her._

_The question sobered him up instantly and he looked at her with concerned eyes._

_“No,” he shook his head and reached for her. “Of course not.”_

_She felt her eyes burning as she wrapped her arms around him tightly._

_“I’m sorry,” she sighed into his shoulder._

_“I'm sorry too.” He hugged her closer to him._

_“I wasn’t trying to shut you out. I just forgot for a moment that you weren't like all the others.”_

_“I know,” he nodded before kissing her. “I was fighting an older battle that had nothing to do with you. Rosie used to..." he cut himself off. "But it doesn't matter. I love you."_

_"I love you too," she promised before kissing him into silence._

_They made love with the gratefulness and eagerness of two people who realized how easily it could all fall apart. They weren't guaranteed anything in this life, and it took fighting for them to remember._

_Later, as Jack peered over her lifeless body, Phryne slowly raised her fingertips to brush over his swollen lips. Time seemed to stop, letting them memorize each other._

_“Beautiful man,” she murmured._

_“Yours, at the very least,” he replied, brushing back her hair._

_“Jack,” she looked him in the eye, “ask me again.”_

_He frowned, either unsure what she meant or unwilling to follow through with her request._

_“Ask me again,” she repeated._

_“What are you so afraid of?” He whispered the words, his curiosity and fear cracking under the weight of them._

_“I’m afraid of losing you.”_

_He sighed and nodded, understanding her fear._

_“I'll promise not to get lost if you promise not to wear masks,” he offered and she smiled._

_“I promise.”_

_He sealed it with a kiss to her palm._

OOOOO

Over time, it became their secret code word: promise.

They would be yelling and he would go for his coat and she would stop and say ‘Promise?’

He would inevitably either nod and say ‘Promise.’ and come back after a long walk, or simply hang his coat back on the hook in defeat.

At times he would be scared to death by her recklessness and she would simply look him in the eye and give him a soft ‘I promise.’ and he would remember this was who she was and he'd send her off into the dark with a kiss and fresh bullets.

But tonight, she had left without saying it. She had been so angry by what she had seen, she'd refused to give him the satisfaction of knowing she may come back.

She didn't know if she could.

He'd cut her out, personally and professionally.

A self-righteous rage filled her, ending her tears.

How could he do that? After all of his demands of honesty from her?

The hypocrite.

Phryne wasn't a fool. She knew Jack's in-depth knowledge and familiarity with the Camorra made him a natural leader for the secret task force. It also put him at great risk. They had been trying to kill him for years, and they wouldn't stop at him. He could have gotten them both killed and she’d had no idea they were even in danger.

And judging by the secret meeting she had stumbled onto, Jack had also apparently finessed his Italian in the last year they had been together, although when he had found the time, she was unsure. Although his tutor must have helped him immensely. Concetta Strano had been his personal assistant and guide to the underworld for at least the last few months, certainly longer judging by their history. Is that what stung the most? How easily she could be replaced with another woman without even realizing it?

The alarming thing about all of this is that she didn't care about the danger he was in, or the time he spent with Concetta. She would have signed off on all of it, had she known. But he chose to lie about it and that rocked the very foundation they had laid out together.

A pillow was hurled at the wall before she could stop herself. The cry of pain that escaped her lungs sounded foreign. She'd never made that noise before.

Overwhelmed by the tsunami of thoughts, she curled back up in bed, willing a blank mind to come to her so she could sleep.

OOOOO

Jack sat on the top stair, masochistically listening to the screaming and the crashing behind him, his eyes wincing in pain with every sound that managed to escape her room.

He'd done that. He'd hurt her more than she’d ever deserved.

It scared him to death, that moment when she'd realized what she had walked in on. Her Italian was too good for him to hope she had misunderstood. The look in her eye wasn't anger or pain, it was worse. It was knowing. She saw directly through to the heart of him. She knew what he had done, why he had done it, and how, all in the blink of an eye.

Now there was only question left: could she forgive him for it?

OOOOO

When Phryne emerged from her bedroom the next morning, Jack was sleeping with his back up against her hallway wall.

She wanted to grab him by the rumpled suit jacket he still wore and scream ‘Why? Why would you do this to us?’

Instead, she stepped over him and made her way down the stairs for breakfast.

If Mr. Butler was surprised to see her alone, he hid it well.

“Breakfast, Miss?”

“Just tea and dry toast this morning.”

She sat down at the table and began sorting her mail until she saw the newspaper lying underneath it.

 **Cops vs. Camorra:** **Undercover raid ravages underground ring**

She couldn't help but read the article, even as her stomach turned. She was proud of him. He'd done the unthinkable and he would surely be commended for it, maybe even promoted.

She accepted her tea from Mr. Butler and he glanced down at her paper, thinking loudly.

“What is it, Mr. Butler?” She asked, wanting someone to say it out loud.

“It must have been terrible for him, going through all of that alone,” he commented briefly with a shake of his head. “I don't know how he did it.”

“Jack made his choice, Mr. Butler and we must respect it, even if we don’t understand it,” Phryne stated passively. She took a sip of her tea as the butler looked over her to the shadow of a man standing in the doorway, the real target of her statement.

“Good morning, Inspector. Would you care for some breakfast this morning?” He asked, professional kindness oozing from him.

“Please,” Jack nodded as the man disappeared.

“Shall I take it in the kitchen?” He asked Phryne honestly.

“If you prefer,” she shrugged. “Surely you don't need my input on the matter.”

Jack sighed and sat down next to her at the table.

“I know that what I did hurt you, and I will never forgive myself for that, but Phryne, as God as my witness, I couldn't tell you. My job was on the line.”

“Well, you needn’t worry about that any longer. They may knight you.” She set the paper in front of him and he pushed it aside.

“Phryne, please, can’t we just talk about this?” He asked.

That earned her attention and the room fell eerily silent as she finally stared him down.

“We could have,” she nodded, “every day, for months. You declined that option. Now it’s my turn to do the same.” She stood up from the table.

“I couldn’t…”

“You could! ‘I can't tell you.’ Four words were all that I was owed but you couldn't even manage that level of consideration so no, I feel absolutely no obligation to find words for you now.” Her eyes were burning as she stormed out of the dining room to get her coat.

“Phryne…”

“I don't want you here when I come back.” She grabbed her handbag and slammed the door.

OOOOO

It took a week before their paths crossed, coming out of shop with Dot and the baby in tow.

“Inspector, so nice to see you,” Dot smiled.

“Mrs. Collins,” he smiled politely back until Phryne emerged from the store behind her. His smile didn’t so much as falter as fall from his face and he cleared his throat

“Miss Fisher,” he greeted more formally.

“Jack.”

“Here, I'll take those,” Dot took the bags out of Phryne's hands and set them on the pram's handle. “Why don't you two catch up and I'll meet you at home?” She suggested as she walked away along with every excuse Phryne could muster.

They stood there for an awkward eternity.

“I heard about the commendation. Congratulations,” she offered.

“Ironic, isn't it? A medal of courage?” He shook his head. “It doesn't feel like I deserve it.”

“You do, Jack,” she nodded.

“You know, I never meant for any of this to happen. If I had known…”

“I know,” she nodded sadly, wanting to reach out and touch him so much that it hurt. She shoved her hands deeper into the pockets of her coat.

“I tried to convince myself that you would understand, maybe even do the same thing if the situation were reversed.”

“I would have.” She knew it was true. “Before.”

That was the line in the sand, that tricky little detail she couldn't quite get over. He’d kept his word to seemingly everyone else but her and she hadn't figured out how to forgive him for it.

Jack seemed to read this in her features and he sighed like a man sentenced to hang.

“Is it too late?” He finally asked, his quietly despondent tone bringing tears to her eyes.

“I don’t know,” her voice cracked.

“Will you let me know once you do?” He requested, his own eyes beginning to water.

“I promise,” she touched his arm through his coat and the words broke both of them.

Jack nodded and sniffed once before walking away, disappearing around the corner.

It was her worst fear come to life. He was gone and all she had in exchange was her pride.

It wasn’t an even trade.

OOOOO

When Jack arrived home from work that evening, Phryne was sitting on his stoop.

To say that he looked worried to see her was an understatement. He clearly thought she was here to break things off forever.

“Phryne...”

Her name was a plea not to pull the trigger.

She stood up.

“Ask me again,” she stated, wondering if he would even remember their conversation from so long ago.

“What?”

“Ask me, again,” she begged slowly and she saw the moment the memory registered with him.

He closed his eyes, also remembering her answer. 

“What are you so afraid of?” He asked dutifully, his voice quivering. 

“I’m afraid of losing you,” she repeated her response.

“Impossible,” he informed her breathlessly as he closed the distance between them.

He kissed her with everything he had and she gave herself over to him completely. He pressed her into the door and she twisted the handle open, pulling him inside.

Murmurs of apologies, promises of love, and tears of healing all wove together as they fought through the pain to find one another.

And as they held each other afterwards, both partners refusing to let any space come between them for the foreseeable future, Jack found her hand and lifted her palm to his lips, sealing a new, unspoken promise to her.

When Phryne looked up into his eyes, she found that she didn’t have to know what it was.

He knew and he was determined to keep it.


	16. Kindness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In order to make up for the angst, I decided to swing violently in the other direction.

“They found him in Paris, covered in champagne and caviar I'm sure, and he still has the gall to tell my mother that he’s been in Australia visiting me this entire time!” Phryne roared, pacing the edge of the room yet again.

“Phryne, how can I make this better?” Jack asked at last, wanting to help but completely unsure of how to do so. He’d been trying to figure it out for the last 15 minutes but everything he’d done in the past had been as a friend or partner. He wasn’t quite sure what path, if any, she’d prefer her lover to take.

“I don’t need you to make it better!” She cried. “What I need is for you to sit there and let me yell at you because I can’t yell at him.”

Jack pressed his lips together at her exasperation. After all, she had given him his answer so he couldn’t very well tease her about it now.

“Well, go on then,” he nodded, settling into the sofa for the duration of whatever this was.

It was enough of a submission that she paused to comprehend his actions. His expectant and willing face was too much for her rage and it melted from her instantly. Her body visibly sagged as she made her way over to him.

“I’m sorry,” she murmured, as she placed her hands on his shoulders. Her eyes were filled with apologetic affection for his unyielding patience.

He shrugged nonchalantly.

“You’re quite adorable when you’re frustrated,” he noted casually.

“Mm.” She looked less than thrilled by his assessment. “You just like seeing the shoe on the other foot.”

“True, true,” he conceded with a nod as she curled up beside him. “But… there is a razor’s edge separating your frustrations that I cannot resist pushing towards my favor.”

She tugged on his tie for the nerve and he was charmed all over again. He pulled her in for a kiss and he was reminded for the thousandth time how god damn lucky he was to get to be the man sitting here, taking the brunt of her anger.

“I love you,” she whispered.

Jack tilted his head in surprise, not of the sentiment, but that she had said it out loud. It was the first time it had slipped her lips outside the confines of passion and, despite the slight nervousness in her gaze, she looked relatively unrepentant.  

He silently pointed to his own chest, just to confirm who she was speaking about.

She nodded.

“And you’re sure about this?” He inquired, giving her an out.

“Quite sure, yes.” She broke the news to him gently.

“Mm,” he frowned, deep in thought. “What do you think we should do about it?” He asked her.

“I was hoping you might consider hauling me off to bed and making love to me until morning,” she recommended.  

“A tantalizing proposition, Miss Fisher,” he concurred, massaging her thigh with his hand. “But what if I don’t want to stop at dawn?”

“Mmm,” she hummed as he nuzzled his nose against her neck and she tilted her head back in response. “I’m sure we could work something out.”

He began to unbutton her blouse, wanting more room to roam down her neck and she shivered as he kissed her collarbone, a spot he now knew to be particularly sensitive for her.

“Do you remember the first time you ran a finger down my collarbone?” She asked, her voice low with want.

“Yes,” he responded briefly, his tongue busy tracing the veins in her neck.

“I came twice that evening from just the memory of that one fingertip,” she moaned as Jack dove headfirst into her decolletage.

“So did I,” he grinned wolfishly as he pressed her into the sofa so he had better access to her trousers.

“Jack,” she paused him with a hand on his shoulder, suddenly looking like something was amiss. “Will you give me a moment?” She requested and he nodded, confused but willing to let her go.

“Is everything alright?” He asked as she buttoned up her blouse quickly.

“I’ll be right back.”

He watched her go and sat back on the sofa with a deep exhale as he wondered where she had darted off to.

When she finally emerged again, she sat down beside him casually and put a hand on his thigh.

“I have good news and bad news,” she began. “The good news is that I have received an explanation for my anger earlier. The bad news is that it just arrived and it may put a stop to our evening plans.”

Jack paused for a brief moment, trying to figure out what she meant, but once he did, his lips formed a silent oh and he cleared his throat. She was menstruating.

“I see,” he smiled and he could have sworn he saw her tinge pink. It was the first time they had come up against this particular issue. “Well, what does it for you? Bath, whiskey, sleep?” He asked, having done this about a thousand times before.

“Jack,” she set her forehead down on his shoulder.

“What?” He cradled her neck with his hand, playing with the fine hairs at the nape of her neck.

“In the last 30 minutes you let me yell at you, offered to bed me until noon, and now, after all that delicious foreplay, you want to draw me a bath and send me up to bed with a powder and a glass of whiskey?” She stared up at him.

“I was married for over a decade, Phryne. The other four years I was at war. You're going to have to try a bit harder to throw me off balance,” he smirked as she pulled away from him.

“Between you and Mr. Butler, my standards for men are becoming unattainable.”

“Then our secret plan to maintain the security of our positions is working,” he smiled.

“It’s absolutely working. Right now, I want you, a shower, a powder, and now that you mention it, possibly a chocolate cake,” she added.

“Let's do that then. Give Mr. Butler an hour while we go upstairs and try to relieve some of this tension in a hot shower. By the time we're done, he'll have whipped up something stunning and we can eat cake in our pajamas.”

“That sounds frightfully indulgent, even for me.”

“I learned from the best.” He stood up. “Go start the shower. I'll talk to Mr. Butler and join you in a moment.”

She looked at him for a long moment before leaning in to kiss him.

“Have I told you that I love you?”

“Yes but I won't discourage you from saying it again.”

“Then hurry upstairs because it may slip again and I don’t want you to miss it.”

Jack sent her up the stairs before heading back into the kitchen.

Mr. Butler was sipping tea and he smiled upon seeing Jack enter his domain.

“Inspector, how can I help you?”

“Miss Fisher, as you may have overheard, is having a bit of a personal crisis at the moment. I’ve sent her up to take a bath but I was wondering if you might be willing to whip her up something, preferably chocolate, and send it up with a powder?”

“Of course,” Mr. Butler smiled, knowing exactly what to do. “Would you care for anything yourself?"

“Some tea and a powder for me would be wonderful,” he confessed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“I’ll get right on it.”

“You are the most appreciated man on the continent, Mr. Butler,” Jack smiled gratefully.

“Happy to be of service.” He set about pulling out bowls and Jack left him in peace, traveling upstairs to find Phryne.

He opened the bathroom door and was immediately met with a cloud of steam. He undressed quickly and slipped into the warm cocoon of air in the shower stall.

“There you are,” she folded his arms around her waist and he kissed her hello.

“Mr. Butler is busy in the kitchen, how can I be of service?” He asked.

“I think slow and close should do it,” she encouraged, backing up against him and stirring his body to action.

He cupped her left breast as his right hand slipped down her stomach to rub her clitoris gently and she leaned back into him with a contented sigh.

“Does that hurt?” He asked quietly, not wanting to make matters worse.

“It’s tender,” she described, “but no, it doesn’t hurt. It feels nice.”

He pressed her forward, guiding himself between her legs and slowly entered her wet heat, watching her carefully.

“How’s that?” He asked as he slowly moved in and out of her, his fingertips still gently massaging her.

“Mmhm,” she encouraged, spreading her legs wider and bending forward a bit to lean against the tiled wall.

As he took her, Jack watched the curve of her pale back arch, her pretty spine and trim waist bending to meet him and he couldn’t help placing a kiss down the center of her back.

“So beautiful,” he murmured against her skin as he pressed into her clitoris a little harder.

Her palm came up sharply, slapping against the tile as her orgasm rippled through her.

Jack felt her muscles flutter around him but she didn’t make a sound, shuddering silently before him. He was feeling close to coming himself when she pulled away from him and turned around.

“Hold me, Jack,” she requested.

He lifted her up against the wall and she wrapped her arms and legs around him tightly, eliminating any sense of space between them. He closed his eyes and began thrusting inside her faster but he still felt her eyes on him as his spine began to tighten.

“I love you,” she whispered in his ear. “I love you.”

Her words pushed him further and further until he finally found his own release.

Phryne followed after, her thighs clenching around his hips to hold him inside her. 

Jack listened to her hum in contentment as she came down, both mentally and physically, placing her feet gently back down on the floor of the shower.

They washed themselves clean again before turning off the taps and wrapping themselves up warmly in pajamas and robes and finding their way back to the bedroom.

Mr. Butler had a tray filled with two small chocolate cakes, two powders, and a pot of hot tea sitting on a small stool in front of the fire and Jack paused to glance at the clock.

“That man is a miracle,” he shook his head as Phryne slipped past him with glee. He watched as she stole a plate from the tray, sat down cross-legged on the floor, and began to eat her cake right there in front of the roaring fireplace.

“Mm, and it’s still warm,” she groaned and he chuckled at her as he made his way over to join her on the rug.

“What?” She asked, daring him to say what he was thinking.

“Nothing,” he poured himself a cup of tea. “It’s just that you’re moaning louder for that cake than you did for me,” he smirked as he sat down next to her.

“You’d do well to remember that you have competition,” she replied as she sucked on her spoon defiantly.

“It doesn’t seem like much of a competition from here,” he smirked at her already near empty plate.

She paused as a small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

“You’re right. It's not a competition,” she murmured kindly before sidling up beside him. “It’s not even close.” 


	17. Vulnerability

Phryne followed him into his office silently, the familiar cadence of her heels on the floor mysteriously absent, as if she had commanded the laws of the universe to cease for his benefit.

He could feel her eyes on him, even as he was lost deep in thought, trying to work his way through the issues at hand. He didn't turn around to face her, knowing she wouldn't mind the momentary exploration of his own mind.

Lucas Holt had escaped prison. Everyone knew he was one of the most dangerous criminals Jack had ever caught. On the list of people Jack didn’t want in the free world, Holt was number one and the fact that he had simply walked out of prison of his own free will was appalling. There was already a dead prison guard and it had only been an hour. What sort of mayhem would he create in his wake if they couldn’t catch him?

He glanced down in confusion as he felt Phryne’s hand wrap around his wrist. As she lifted it, he realized he had been grinding it into the top of the desk in rage. He hadn’t noticed.

He looked up from the unexpected connection and found her drawing him in closer to her. She gently stroked the back of his clenched jaw with her fingertips, massaging the tension from it before touching her forehead to his. He leaned in and felt the anger drain from his body as they rested against each other in mutual understanding.

As her nose brushed against his, he couldn’t resist breaking the only boundary they had set for themselves. He kissed her quietly, uncaring if anyone found them. He needed to feel her as close as they could get.

“Jack...” She whispered, pulling away from him but unable to resist keeping her hands on his face. “We can't, not here,” she reminded him.

He nodded, knowing his voice couldn’t be trusted when he was feeling so raw.

 _We will solve this,_  her eyes spoke silently before she squeezed his hand briefly in encouragement and he nodded again as he let her go. She stepped back, putting what felt like enormous space between them but was in actuality, just the width of the desk.

“How late are you planning on staying tonight?” She asked and he knew that she was asking how hard she would have to persuade him not to stay at all.

“I don’t know. As long as it takes to hear something, I suppose.”

“Then I’ll wait with you.” She moved to sit down.

“No, you should go home.”

It wasn’t a suggestion and she knew it, pausing in surprise at the unspoken command.

He didn't direct her actions frequently, if at all, but tonight his desperate need to get her as far from him as possible overrode their normal boundaries.

To his relief, she nodded once in understanding.

“Alright.” She took a deep breath and visibly reset herself, shifting gears. “Will you call me if you need anything? Food, fresh clothes, supplies?”

“Yes, of course,” he promised.  

She glanced into the hall for a moment before coming over to fix his tie.

“Please take care of yourself,” she requested, concern in her eyes at leaving him alone.  

“I will,” he whispered. “And Phryne, keep your head down until he’s caught. If he thinks…”

“I know. I will,” she assured him but he couldn’t help but have dark concerns of his own.

“I love you,” she reminded him quietly, brushing down his jacket one last time as she stepped back.

“I love you too,” he murmured and she turned and walked out of the office, leaving him alone with his thoughts.

OOOOO

Phryne had tred a well-worn path throughout the bungalow as she paced. The former glass of whiskey in her hand hadn’t managed to be set down yet but was now being used as something to cradle to her chest in lieu of him.  

She knew that Jack wouldn’t come to Wardlow tonight, if he left City South at all, but she wanted to be here in solidarity when he did finally leave his office.

She knew he needed his walls back from time to time in order to do his job properly and while she hated being shut out, she understood completely why he did it. She just wanted to return the support that he was always giving her. He had held her up throughout Janey’s investigation, literally and figuratively, he distracted her from her father and led her out of her childish rage whenever the Baron inevitably tried to drive her mad, and he sailed halfway around the world just to be the one to escort her home. He was always there for her in exactly the way she needed, whether she knew she needed it or not. And while she had tried to tell herself that what he needed right now was space, she just couldn’t quite bring herself to believe the lie.

When the clock struck one, she pulled a blanket from the bedroom and settled into the sofa. She didn’t want to miss him if - when, she corrected herself - he came in and sleeping in his bed without him was completely out of the question.

OOOOO

She felt his hand on her arm before she heard him.

“Phryne,” he repeated and she opened her eyes. “Come to bed.”

“What time is it?”

He glanced down at his watch. He was still wearing the same clothes she had left him in, but the birds were chirping.

“Half past six,” he revealed.

“Did they find him?” She clutched his arm as she remembered why she was here.

He nodded.

“Dogs picked up his scent outside the prison. They found him hiding in a barn not far from there. He was shot on sight.”

“How convenient.” She knew Jack had enough enemies in high places to make them both question who would let someone so hell bent on revenge just walk out of the prison unnoticed.

“Russell Street is handling the investigation on how he escaped custody but they are convinced he acted alone.” Jack gave the excuse like a good soldier should.

“Do you believe them?” She asked, not stating her opinion one way or the other.

“The investigation is ongoing,” he replied diplomatically with a sigh. “What are you doing on my sofa?” He asked, changing the subject.

“Waiting up for you,” she replied as if it were obvious and he smirked at her denial of her failure.

“So you are,” he concurred. “Do you mind waiting up a bit longer? I am in desperate need of a scrubbing.”

She chuckled as he looked down at his rumpled suit.

“I think we can manage something. Come on.”

OOOOO

Jack emerged a few moments later on a cloud of steam, with a towel around his hips. He paused only a moment at the intimate scene she had managed to create. The curtains were drawn, his pajamas were laid out for him, and she was dressed and in bed, despite the fact that she had slept already, a level of solidarity he couldn’t have expected from anyone, even her.

His stunned silence must caught her off-guard and she tilted her head at him, trying to decipher the reason.

“Jack?”

He moved across the room, needing desperately to convey the feelings she had been stoking in him for the last 12 hours.

He bent down to kiss her intimately, wanting to give himself over completely to her. She drew him closer to her, always eager for his affection, no matter how overwhelming.

He undressed her reverently, worshipping her. His hands caressed her soft skin, his mouth praised her every curve, and when he finally let himself glide inside her, he could have cried from the warm, welcoming heat that she provided.

She held him close, murmuring encouragement in the shell of his ear as they rocked slowly together, building a physical connection to match their emotional one, and when they came, it was together, unified in even the most holy of acts.

He lay beside her, heads on pillows, staring into her eyes and he couldn’t believe his luck that she had stumbled onto his crime scene all that time ago.

“Talk to me, Jack Robinson,” she brushed a finger over his heavy brow, trying to ease his thoughts from him.

“I came home expecting an empty house, thinking of all the ways I would make last night up to you, and instead of apologizing, you're here, turning down my sheets and slipping into bed with me even though you've already slept. It is so far from what I expected our life together to be.”

“What did you expect?” She asked curiously.

“Passion, and life, and exponentially more trouble. A lot of this.” He smirked a little as he stroked her shoulder. “But I suppose I expected us to require far more independence than we actually have.”

“Because of me?” She tried to look nonchalant, but he knew the question took courage for her to ask.

“And me,” he replied. “I was accused of being a single pillar once myself.”

A soft smile tugged at her lips.

“That life, of compartmentalizing and keeping things to myself, was demolished the second you came into my world. You understood what I needed, sometimes before I did, and you gave it to me without hesitation.” He gave her credit where it was due. “So I know that when I ask you to leave the room, even though you hate it, you will, for as long as I need.” His tone conveying how miraculous he considered that loyalty. “And I also know that you’re going to be right outside the door, ready and waiting, the moment I need you to step back in.”

Her expression faltered and she squeezed his hand, touched by his words.

“Always,” she responded. “You only need ask and I will be there, at the ready, for whatever you need.”

“I know,” he touched her cheek, “As will I.”

She sighed and closed the distance between them, burrowing herself in his chest, wanting to be held.

His arms enveloped her, drawing her as close to him as possible.

Whatever happened between them, it was a vow that he knew that they both would keep until their dying day.


	18. Pleasure

“Leaving for the weekend, sir?” Constable Murphy watched as he locked up his office.

“Yes, Constable. Inspector Thompson will be on call this weekend should you need anything."

“Traveling out of town, sir?” He asked, rightly confused. Jack had been living at the station since the young man and his fellow recruits had started just over a month ago. It probably never dawned on him that Jack had a life outside of this building, or at least, would from now on.

“Quite the opposite, a homecoming celebration.”

Jack turned around and smiled broadly as he confirmed who was standing at her rightful place at the counter, as if she had never left.

Constable Murphy hadn’t yet had the pleasure of being bowled over by Miss Fisher, although the station was abuzz with the news that she had flown home from London a few days ago. Her front page spread in the Argus had been left on Jack's desk by more than one smiling colleague.

Jack watched the interaction with interest, gauging how his young Constable might cope one on one with a freight train.

“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m the notorious thorn in the Inspector’s side, the Honorable Miss Phryne Fisher.” She held out her hand to the Constable. “But I'm sure an intelligent officer of the law like yourself has already worked that out.”

“Constable Will Murphy, Miss.” He shook her hand and she leaned in close, going in for the kill.

“Don’t worry, Will. The truth is even better than the rumors,” she winked as the boy turned a violent shade of fuschia.

Jack rolled his eyes at the gleeful way she manipulated her own reputation and he thought back to wide-eyed Hugh Collins, who had never stood a chance.

“He’s already under strict orders not to encourage you,” he scolded her and reminded him as he pulled her away from the desk. “Constable, have a good weekend.” He tilted his hat towards him as he shoved her out the door and towards his car. “Two seconds in the lobby and you’re already causing...”

He was cut off by a very public, very inappropriate, very sumptuous kiss against the side of his car, which he broke off only out of necessity.

“Get. In,” he demanded as he pointed towards his car and she didn’t have to be told twice.

He drove as quickly as she would on an average day, pulling gracefully around to the side of the house. They were alone in the dark at last.

She barely let him put the car in park before she was turning to face him, her body pressing close to his.

“Phryne,” he murmured, “what has gotten into you tonight?” He asked playfully as her red lipstick tattooed his jaw and neck, marking him hers.

“You have been working for months in this car, all alone, all business." She stroked at his belt. "But it used to be our hiding place in plain sight, a way for us to be alone together in public. And I think in my absence, you've forgotten how deliciously tense that was."

His eyes went dark as he realized that she was staking her claim.

“You used to look me over, side-eyeing me from across the car, thinking thoughts that made you flush with desire. But now that I know exactly what makes you flush, I want a demonstration," she loosened his tie. "I want you to fuck me the way that you fantasized about before we were lovers.” 

Jack growled and pulled her onto his lap, completely willing to play this game. He grabbed her wrists, halting her from undressing him further. 

“First of all, clothes stay on," he informed her as he reached for his trousers.

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow at his preference. “Who’s on top?” She asked and he gave her an obvious look.

“Excellent,” she smiled wickedly, staying right where she was. “What’s next?”

“You ride me hard, and fast, and deep,” he stroked himself to each word, “until you can’t come anymore.”

Phryne shivered as he coated himself with her and she raised herself up onto her knees. She sank onto him until she couldn’t go any further and they began to move their hips.

“Is this what you imagined?” She asked as she worked, a filthy smile on her lips.

“Haven’t you always wanted me this way? Under you, completely at your mercy?”

“Maybe,” she nipped at his jaw playfully.

“As if you've never imagined me sucking your sweet breasts into my mouth, cursing in your ear, or holding your hips tight as you buck against me.”

She gasped as he ground up into her from below.

“Tell me more,” she groaned, his words and actions undoing her.

“I was looking over at you because you were irresistible,” he growled, pumping faster. “How could I not think about pulling you over top of me and sinking inside you just like this,” he strained.

“Yes!” She cried out as her orgasm came closer and closer. “Don’t stop, don’t stop, don-ohhhhhh.” She shuddered against him, curling into his neck but he didn’t stop, keeping the rhythm on his own until her body began to climb again, this time with her gasping mouth pressed against his skin.

“Oh, Jack, oh Jack,” she whimpered as she climbed higher and higher, her body clinging to his.

“That’s right, Phryne,” he praised, “come again.” He was sweating with the effort of keeping her on the precipice and she let out a long low whine as her body was racked with another rolling orgasm.

“Turn around,” he gently helped her face the dashboard. She placed her hands on it to steady herself and he began to work her over yet again. From this angle, his thrusts were shallower but his fingers could work, toying with her clit with every twist of her hips.

“Fuck, Jack,” she leaned back, wanting to feel him deeper. He sat up straighter and pulled her flush against his chest. She reached up and clung to the back of his head as he bounced her on his lap. He bit down on her bare skin, the straps of her dress long past falling off her shoulders.  

“Phryne, I’m gonna come,” he warned, his body about to combust.

“Yes, Jack. Come inside me. Come,” she encouraged as she gripped his hair tighter and her inner muscles clamped down around him. He cried out in frustration, his hands working her tits frantically through her dress.

“Phryne…” he called out her name one last time before a roar escaped his battered lungs and he came hard, shooting hot seed inside her.

“Yes! Jack! Yes!” She slapped the dashboard as he triggered her final climax.

The buzzing in his ears took minutes to subside as he clung to her, resting his sweaty forehead on her shoulder. She didn’t move, pressing his hands tightly to her sternum, not wanting to let him go.

The sound of their panting and the sweet smell of sex began to fill his senses as he slipped from her body. He kissed her shoulder, silently asking for permission to take his hand back and he reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief for her.

She slipped over him, opening the door and stumbling out into the fresh air, her wobbly legs nearly refusing to hold her. She barely adjusted her dress, just enough to look indecent rather than obscene, and waited for him to finish doing up his trousers.

“You were right about leaving our clothes on,” she admitted as he stood on solid ground again. “I have never felt so thoroughly fucked.”

“The devil is in the details, Miss Fisher,” he informed her with a smirk.


	19. Guilt

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Rough, angry sex

Jack was seething.

He wasn't stupid, he knew this case hit far too close to home. An adventurous party girl, a faithful husband, and a string of jazz club lovers who would do anything she asked of them.

Including murder.

The husband had no idea of her escapades. He just thought she was a waitress who worked all night long. There were always shifts to be picked up and they needed the money.

Dumb fool.

But as the fool spoke, Jack couldn't resist painting himself and Phryne into the picture. Hell, just this morning, she had strolled in at breakfast after being at a party until dawn. He had nothing but his trust to protect him if she let herself get carried away on the dance floor or re-introduced herself to an old friend.

He’d slammed the door as he left the interrogation room.

At the end of the long day, despite his anger, his car pulled up to Wardlow and he made his way inside. He found her as he always did during a heat wave, stark naked on the top of her fur throw, with no inhibitions or a care in the world.

It didn't help matters.

He hadn’t really looked at her as he undressed and moved into bed (he was afraid to, if he were honest) so when her small hand came to land directly over his heart, a gentle promise that everything would be alright, something inside him cracked wide open. He couldn't bear that sort of touch tonight. He felt wildly out of control and he wanted her that way as well.

In a flash, he smashed his mouth over hers and kissed her with every ounce of emotion he had.

Phryne, to her credit, didn't flinch. In fact, she met him eagerly, her curious eyes watching him as she kissed him.

But he didn't want her to see him like this, broken, flailing, enraged. He turned her over onto her stomach under the pretense of sex and hoped that she would cooperate. 

She did, lifting her hips off of the mattress and wiggling them at him, far too playful for his liking.

An urge overtook him that he rarely gave over to: he spanked her right cheek for the sass.

She gasped but giggled with delighted surprise. She lowered her torso to the mattress, raising her ass in the air and encouraging him to do it again.

So he did.

When she produced a similarly pleased moan, he rubbed the spot and did it a third time, sending her into overdrive as a choked cry of pleasure shivered through her.

"Jack, more," she begged. 

He set her hands on the headboard in front of her and she gripped the wood tightly in obedience. She didn't even look back at him when she did it. He ran his cock between her folds a few times before spearing into her sharply.

A gasp and a moan were all he heard before he took her hard and fast, pummeling her with rough pleasure. He fucked her mindlessly, wanting nothing but a blissful fog in his brain for a few minutes. He achieved it, barely pulling out in time to shoot his hot seed all over her backside, claiming her as his.

He came to slowly, reaching for a flannel to clean her up. He wasn't sure if she had even climaxed. He hadn't noticed if she had.

A wave of shame and exhaustion overwhelmed him as he realized what he had done. He got up, put on his pajama pants, and wordlessly left the room, unable to be near her until he sorted himself out.

OOOOO

She had always suspected that he had it in him.

She had even encouraged him to take more liberties with her body, mark her skin with his teeth, imprint his tight grip on her thighs. She loved it when he lost control out of pleasure.

But to watch it happen out of anger...

Phryne shivered as her lack of release still thrummed inside her, wanting to run free.

He’d been upset when he came in. The wall he usually hid his emotions behind was crumbling and she hadn't dared ask what had him in such a state, keeping both his pride and his privacy securely in place for him while he couldn't. 

But then he had snapped, the weight of trying to keep himself together something that he could no longer bear.

He had been rough: spanked her, manhandled her, fucked her without any care for her own pleasure. And she would have loved this new and different side of him if she didn't already know how it would end. 

Jack would hate himself in the morning. She could almost see the guilt in his eyes as he inspected her body like a crime scene. His crimes didn't bother her though. After years of being afraid of her, or being so closed off to any possibility of showing her how he felt, she wanted to be the one that he came to on nights like tonight.

Deciding that he had taken too long, she got cleaned up, put on a robe, and went off in search of him.

She paused and looked around the hallway for any sign of where he might have gone. She made her way down the hall to the guest bedroom. The door was closed. She sighed and knocked.

“Jack?” She called before testing the handle. It was unlocked. She opened it and found him sitting on the edge of the bed, hands in his hair. She didn’t move from the doorway.

“Do you want to be alone?” She asked him, hoping he would be honest with her.

He seemed to hear the unspoken end of her sentence.

_Or are you hiding?_

When he didn’t answer either way, she stepped into the room, closing the door behind her. She sat down beside him on the bed silently. She wanted to hold his hand or wrap an arm around him, something to convey her solidarity in whatever he was going through. Instead, she just sat. 

“I’m sorry,” he finally spoke. “I shouldn’t have touched you like that.” 

“Why not?” She asked seriously.

He looked at her like she was insane.

“Jack," she frowned at his assessment, "you don't have a reason apologize. You didn’t take advantage of me. You didn't hurt me, at least not in any way I didn't want. What is this about?” She asked. 

“A lot of things. A case, the heat, this morning,” he rattled off all the things that might be contributing to his mood.

“What happened this morning?” She asked.

When he looked at her, she realized _she_ was what had happened that morning.

“I upset you.” The thought alone took her breath away.  

“I’m in the middle of a case right now where a waitress at a jazz club told her husband that she was taking extra shifts. What she actually was taking were other lovers, whoever struck her fancy in the moment. One of the lovers walked in on this woman and her new man of the hour and tried to kill him in jealousy. After listening to the poor sods caught in this woman’s web, the trusting husband, the jealous lover, the innocent victim, they all thought that they were the exception, that they had a special claim to a woman who was too full of life to stay with one man. She turned them all into fools.”

“So when I didn’t come home last night, you started to wonder if you were a fool as well?” She asked, upset that he could even think such a thing.

“You smelled like someone else’s cologne,” Jack informed her and she felt her throat close as she recalled how brief his kiss had been that morning and how quickly he had left afterwards.

“Oh, Jack,” she murmured. “I love you. I would never...”

“I know,” he emphasized.

“Do you?” She wanted to be very clear on this subject.

“Yes,” he nodded, “which is why I shouldn’t have touched you like that. I just… I wanted control.” He shook his head. He looked exhausted. “It was wrong and I’m sorry.”

Phryne finally closed the distance by reaching for his hand. It was a silent truce but there wasn't much else that she could say. He would have to forgive himself, which she assumed would be hard-won, if at all. 

“Will you come back to bed?” She asked, unsure if he would.

Jack looked behind him, examining the bed they were already sitting on, before standing up and turning down the bed sheets.

She smiled at the quiet gesture. Certainly, a little more time in neutral territory wouldn’t hurt anyone.

He crawled under the sheets and she pulled off her robe, joining him. He kept his distance from her and she turned onto her side to look at him.

“Will you hold me?” She asked, not wanting to push his limits if he wasn’t ready.

He nodded, opening up his arms to her and she curled up into him, wrapping his arm over her waist. She sighed in contentment, her body melting into his.

His nose nuzzled at the nape of her neck, inhaling deeply, and his comment from earlier sprung to her mind. She had always known that he’d been partial to her scent. Once he’d confessed to recognizing her perfume on the wind, she’d continued shipping it in from France. The fact that it had been that very scent that had betrayed his thoughts seemed doubly cruel somehow.

“I never meant to hurt you, Jack,” she whispered, stroking his arm.

“You didn’t. I hurt myself.” His grumble of a voice reminded her that he was exhausted and most likely wanted to both sleep and stop talking about it.

“I never meant for that to happen either.”

He kissed her shoulder, letting her know that they were fine.

“Get some rest,” he mumbled against her skin.

“I thought you weren’t going to try and control me anymore,” she smirked to herself and the lips on her shoulder became a nibble as he brought his teeth into the matter.

She rubbed herself against him in encouragement. 

“In the morning,” he mumbled, although he did nothing to dissuade her from getting closer.

“I’ll show you how much pleasure can come from a little pain,” she promised.


	20. Boredom

Jack pulled up to Wardlow and dragged himself up the front walk. The 8 pm train from Sydney had seemed like a good way to surprise his partner in the morning, but now, he was aching from the cramped space, crabby from the miserable tea, and wanted nothing more than to take a hot bath.

He closed the front door quietly, hanging up his hat and coat and setting down his luggage in the hall.

“Inspector. Welcome back,” Mr. Butler greeted him in the hall. “Miss Fisher hasn’t returned from her night out yet but I expect she'll be in soon. Would you care for some breakfast?”

“Um, yes. That would be wonderful,” he accepted, glancing down at his watch.

Mr. Butler went back to the kitchen unconcerned but Jack felt uneasy. He knew that Phryne previously had a habit of going out dancing all night long, but she hadn’t done it while they had been together. He wondered if she had felt uncomfortable doing so in his presence and was using the opportunity to her advantage. He’d never want to stop her from doing whatever it was she enjoyed, even if it meant spending the night alone. He’d have to check in with her about it.

Jack managed to eat breakfast and have a bath before the sound of her heels on the stairs hit his ears. He was too curious not to pay attention as she stumbled into the bedroom.

“Jack! You’re home!”

She looked pleased to see him, if not still a little intoxicated. She slowly registered that he wasn't expected until Monday and that he was wearing nothing but a robe and she frowned in confusion.

“What day is it?” She asked him.

“Sunday morning,” he smiled. “I caught a sleeper last night.”

“For me?” She asked as she made her way over to him.

“What can I say? I missed you.”

“Good, I missed you too.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him.

The stench of stale smoke and booze invaded his nostrils and Jack wondered how long she had been out.

“I was so booored with you gone.” She threw her head back dramatically. “I couldn’t sleep. I had to go out dancing just to survive.”

“Did it help?” He wondered, his hands exploring the small of her back.  

She shrugged.

“The whiskey tasted like you. I liked the way it felt on my tongue,” she admitted.

Jack felt his heart lurch in his chest as his previous suspicions immediately flew out the window. She’d gone out dancing, not to take advantage of his absence, but to distract herself from it.

“You really couldn’t sleep?” He asked as she stepped away from him again, lifting her dress and slip over her head. Her round and supple breasts called out to him and he barely saw her nod out of his periphery.

“I’d lay in bed and touch myself, pretending it was you, but it wasn’t the same.” She sighed as she bent over in the mirror to examine the remnants of her makeup, showcasing her perfect rear end to him.

Jack knew what she was doing. She had been denied his attention and now she was demanding all of it, and torturing him in the process, but damn if Jack could ever deny her.

She caught his gaze in the mirror, a devilish look in her expression as she reached down and began to stroke her inner thigh teasingly.

“Don’t stop on my account,” he encouraged, fully willing to sit here all day.

“Jack Robinson,” she purred in delight as she turned around, “do you like to watch?”

“I like to watch you,” he murmured, his sex-starved body already aroused just thinking about her. It had been weeks since he’d been inside her and his cock was unforgiving.

“Any other requests, Inspector?” She asked, crossing in front of him, somehow always just out of reach before laying in bed.

The scent of her desire was now overpowering anything else in his brain and his cock twitched greedily.

“Several.” He undressed and claimed his half of the bed.

“Then you had better be specific,” she challenged, running a sole finger across her clit, testing the waters.

“Inside,” he corrected. “Like this.” He pressed his own finger against hers so that they were side by side and slipped them inside of her together.

“Oh…” She gasped in surprise at the full dissonance their fingers created, her smooth, delicate finger against his calloused one.

“My tongue gets you off best when it’s just here.” He circled her entrance with the tip of his finger, ready to share her secrets. “But you like it when my fingers go deep, don’t you?”

“Yes," she moaned as her own finger went deeper inside her.

“Where?” He asked her and she whimpered.

“Here.” She curled her finger against the spongy spot that always undid her and his finger followed suit.

“Yes, yes,” she praised as her entire body arched up into their hands. Her moans went unfiltered as his tongue began to trace the edge of her ear and their fingers pumped quickly together as one.

“What do you think about when you're alone?” He whispered roughly in her ear, wanting to get her off with his words as much as his hand.

“You,” she whimpered weakly.

“And what am I doing to you?”

“Everything ” she praised.

“Be specific,” he threw her words back at her as his finger stilled and she cried out in frustration.

“You're always deep inside me, so deep.” Her free hand clutched at the sheets behind her.

“Yes,” he encouraged.

“Jack,” she moaned.

“Now we're deep inside of you together,” he pumped faster. “So soft, so wet, so warm. God, Phryne, do you have any idea how lucky you are?” He brushed his nose against her.

A cry was ripped from her lungs as she spasmed around their fingers wildly.

Jack's cock throbbed against her thigh as her orgasm began to slow and she pulled her finger out of her body. Jack followed and Phryne didn't waste a beat wrapping their fingers around his cock.

Jack hissed as her sweet lubrication hit his skin.

Phryne turned herself over, sliding down his body and Jack felt his spine lock as she took him in her sinful mouth while offering her own cunt to him.

He wrapped his hands around her hips and buried his face between her legs, lapping up the elixir their fingers created as quickly as he could. He had no illusions he would last more than a few seconds under her desperate sucking. He wasn't wrong. He spasmed violently, clinging to her back for dear life as she sucked the life from him.

When he stopped seeing stars, Phryne was moving beside him once again and he tucked himself into her, using her torso as his pillow.

“I'm never leaving Wardlow again,” he threatened and he felt her hand brush across his hair.

“It’s the leaving that makes it good,” she pointed out, her voice tinted with a smile.

“The staying is good too,” he murmured, his eyes drooping.

“Yes it is.”

It was the last thing he heard before they fell into a deep, contented sleep.


	21. Incredulous

“Happy birthday.” Jack produced a small present and set it in front of her as Mr. Butler cleared the last of their plates. 

“Thank you.” She beamed. “May I open it now or should I wait until we’re alone?” She inquired, sinfully hopeful for the latter. 

“I believe the law states that you may open your birthday presents whenever you wish.” He chuckled. 

“Excellent.” She began ripping at the paper. She felt his eyes on her as she pulled open the lid of the box. Her breath caught in her throat as she read the cover. “Antony and Cleopatra!” She smiled, touched by the gesture.

“There’s some paperwork involved.” He said as he handed her a card and she gave him a disapproving look despite the smile on her face. 

“Dear Phryne: You are now the owner of an extremely rare, limited edition copy of Antony and Cleopatra. Only 310 cop…. Jack!” She gasped, all the breath leaving her lungs.

“Keep reading.” He smiled at her shocked reaction. 

“Only 310 copies were printed. In a few years, this book will be as rare and as precious as you are to me. All my love, Jack.” 

She set the note down in stunned silence, tears starting to fill her eyes.

“Don’t cry.” He chuckled as he reached for his handkerchief. “Presidents of the Adventuresses’ Club aren’t supposed to come undone by something as silly as unopened books.” He teased. 

“It is the exact opposite of silly.” She scolded his interpretation. “How did you find it?” 

“One of my mates from the war works in publishing now. I asked him to keep an eye out for any interesting Shakespeare that came his way.” Jack smiled. “He agreed that you simply must have it for your collection.” 

“You have a Shakespeare collection.” She reminded him.  

“And you have an estate.” He reminded her with a laugh. “My Shakespeare is tea-stained and dog-eared. You’ll make sure that this is taken care of long after we’re both gone.” 

“They’ll have to pry it out of my hands.” She hugged it a little tighter before setting it back in the box. “Thank you.” 

“Happy birthday, Phryne.” He smiled and kissed her sweetly.

“Jack, you have no idea what you’ve done.” She shook her head and stood up. “Come on, follow me.”

“What, no cake?” He looked a little longingly towards the kitchen door. 

“The cake will wait. Come on.” She dragged him up the stairs and down the long hall towards her surprise. 

She paused in front of a closed door and he stopped short behind her.

“What’s going on?” He asked, totally lost. 

“This was supposed to be your Christmas present, so forgive me if I’m jumping the gun, but...” She took a deep breath. “Do you remember when I told you to ignore the occasional varnish fumes that lingered when you’d spend the night?”

“When you said you were renovating the bedrooms now that Dot and Jane were gone?” 

There was an appropriate level of accusation in his tone. 

“I was, in a way.” She turned the handle and gestured for him to step into the room. 

It was a dark room with heavy drapes over the windows and bookshelves built along every other wall. It was more masculine-looking than the rest of the house, but that was the point. There was a lone desk sitting along the far wall, with a chair strategically similar to the one from his office sitting behind it.  

“You built a library.” He smiled as he looked around. 

“Those two rooms were always small and I wanted to knock down that wall when I moved in but before I knew it I had two girls on my hands and well...” She shrugged at the way it worked out. “Now that they’ve moved out, I thought that this would give you a nice space of your own while you’re staying here.” 

“My own?” He stared around the room, trying to keep up with her, but the magnitude of the gift was getting the best of him. She nervously watched him take it in.

“I thought some wingback chairs and a drinks cart would round out the look nicely but they haven’t been delivered yet.” She smiled as she wrapped her arm around his waist and spun him towards the shelves. “And now, your book will be the first book on the shelves.” She added as she dramatically set the box on the shelf. “There.” She smiled as she turned back around. 

Jack was staring at the book on the shelf incredulously. 

“Too much?” She winced, wondering if he would be scared off by her gift. 

“Phryne, don’t get me wrong, it’s a beautiful gesture but…”

“Why am I offering you a room when you already have your own house?”

“Yes.” He stated simply, relieved she understood. 

“It’s an overture.” She explained.

Jack opened his mouth to protest but she steamrolled over him before he could. 

“I know, darling, I know,” she nodded, not wanting him to feel any pressure, “but we’ve been together for a year and you’ve never even asked me for so much as a key.” She pointed out. “I’ve given you an entire armoire, half the bathroom, and the shed. The only thing missing is space for your books, so…” She gestured to the wall of shelves. “I just want you to feel at home here.” 

“I do, but this...” 

Phryne tried to read what he was thinking behind those inscrutable features but his silence was deafening. She had never quite cracked the mystery as to why he was so hesitant to lay claim to Wardlow when he seemed so alarmingly secure in every other aspect of their relationship. 

“Are you afraid to be here too often because of your job?” She questioned.

“No.” He shook his head. 

“That if you ask for too much, it will scare me and I’ll push you away?”

“No.” He repeated definitively. “I like the way things are. I have everything that I...” He groaned, unsure of how to proceed as he walked across minefields. “My hesitation has nothing to do with you, or with this library. It’s an amazing gift.”

“Well then?” Phryne crossed her arms, eager to hear his explanation.

He walked towards her slowly, untying her arms and holding her hands in his. 

“I’ve lived with someone before, as you may recall.” He started gingerly. “And that was legal and above board and still when it broke, it was the messiest…” He stopped. “You see an armoire and a bathroom and some books on a shelf. I see a room where I can hide when we’re fighting and more boxes for Mr. Butler to pack someday because we can't be under the same roof anymore.”

Phryne stared at him blankly, completely blindsided by his confession.

“I don’t want you to think that this has anything to do with you, or how I feel about you, because it doesn’t,” he assured her, “I love you.” He stared into her eyes, wanting her to know it was true. “I don’t know, maybe I just need more time before every milestone stops reminding me of the time before.” 

“Those milestones weren’t with me.” She knew she sounded defensive, but she wanted to make it clear that she wasn’t his ex-wife.

“No.” Jack agreed with a soft smile at her determination. “Never with you.” He ran his hand behind her neck, adoration in his eyes and she stepped forward, laying her head on his shoulder.

“You know, it won’t hurt any less if you don’t have a toothbrush here when we separate.” 

“Shh,” he lifted her head to look her in the eye, “don’t say when.” He kissed her into silence, not wanting to talk about it anymore. 

Jack, for all his stonewalling, was an extremely emotive kisser. This one was a desperate plea for understanding, for forgiveness, for connection. He was willing the bad thoughts out of him by sheer force and she was more than happy to help chase the shadows away.

She sighed and rested her forehead against his. 

“Come to bed and kiss me until morning.” She pressed herself against him in supplication. 

He nodded and she led him down the hall. They undressed almost silently, barely making a sound as they moved. Phryne got into bed first and Jack followed, facing her. He brushed her bangs back and just took her in for a moment. 

She kissed him gently but he pulled her closer, tugging her leg up and over his own. 

He held her that way, caressing her hair, stroking her skin, slipping sweetly inside her, until they had forgotten why they wanted to feel their strong connection in the first place, until they were both long past satisfied, until they were only one body moving together.

And true to his word, he never stopped kissing her. 


	22. Anticipation

Jack had experienced in anticipation. He had spent two years considering Phryne's body from afar, fantasizing about what he'd like to do once he got it under his hands. And once he had, foreplay had been his new favorite way to memorize her body. He'd catalogued every freckle on her pale skin, the color of her eyes in various shades of desire, and the sweet noises she made when foreplay just wouldn't do any longer.

But this level of anticipation, this foreplay, was tortuous.

She’d blindfolded and bound him with silk before she brought out what she had described as 'a box of goodies' with which to tempt him. A feather boa had been run over his body, oil had been slicked over his chest and licked off his nipples by her tongue, she'd even gone so far as to suck him off while he was in the dark to make sure he would last the rest of the night.

But now that his blindfold was removed, however, he wasn't sure it would matter.

“Phryne,” his voice was ragged and it wasn't from the orgasm.

She was wearing what by rights should be covered by obscenity laws but somehow was simply categorized as sheer lace. Black triangular strips of ribbon tightly outlined her breasts, lifting them into place and meeting at a tie behind her neck. The rest of the supposed negligee was simply sheer black lace. It made her pale skin glow in comparison, drawing your eye not to the material but to the skin you could not touch underneath it.

Which brought him back to his bindings, matching black silk ropes that held him securely at the wrists and ankles, tied a little too expertly by her own hand, so that he was now completely defenseless at the image she presented.

“Do you like it?” She asked.

“I hate it,” he answered honestly, tugging at his wrists just in case God had decided to give him a fighting chance to survive the night.

She had the gall to laugh at his response.

“Poor Jack, always must learn his lessons the hard way.” She smiled at his struggling. “You should have ravaged me the first time I wore this for you.”

“What? When?!”

“You would have known if you hadn't been so cautious," she teased and he seriously wondered if she was just putting him on.

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not.” Her confidence vouched for her. “Sitting in the parlor, playing draughts, feeling the pinch and pull of the bands on the curves of my breasts as you stared at the board, analyzing your next play. The scrape of lace over my nipples, yearning for your mouth.” She bit her lip as his gaze flew to her chest, where yes, her nipples were erect and waiting for him.

“Phryne,” he shook his head, unable to listen to her tease him like this.

“I kept wondering what you would do if you knew. Would you blush? Would you stare? Would you run away or toss the board aside to get to me?”

“Come find out,” he promised with a growl.

Her boa found its way between his feet, teasing him once more for his assertiveness and he shut up.

“A slip of my scarf and you would have found the knot at the base of my neck. You always liked staring at my neck, Jack. But that night, you didn’t notice, I wonder why?”

“I tried my best to avoid staring, Miss Fisher.” 

“That’s too bad. I always liked it when you stared." She ran her boa over his furious erection.

“That much is apparent,” he grimaced, given their current positions.

She smiled despite his comment, coming closer and kissing him sweetly.

Her juxtapositions made his head spin but he took any touch from her he could get.

As she kissed him, she released one of his hands from his silk ligature and he immediately wrapped it in her soft hair, holding her close before she could escape again.

“May I undress you?” He asked, his pinky finger brushing against the knot at her neck, barely fighting the temptation to do it without permission. God only knows the torture she would put him through if he did that.

“Not so fast. Don’t you want to explore the sartorial choice I made for you first?” She inquired, moving his free hand over her lace-covered breast.

“I’ve done my time, Miss Fisher. Let me out.”

She smirked. They both knew that he was completely capable of undoing his own bindings at this point but his consideration of her desires seemed to win her over and she nodded benevolently.

He reached behind him and freed himself from the bed while she undid his ankles. When he was free, he turned back to the woman kneeling between his legs, still facing away from him.

He ran the tip of his finger along her skin, outlining the strap until it got to her neck.

“Use your teeth,” she requested breathlessly and he paused in surprise at the request. “Please?”

It was a fantasy he didn't know she had but he was fully willing to explore it if she reacted in this way.

He took in the pale expanse of her shoulders and he brushed her hair back. He placed featherlight kisses across the back of her neck and down her right shoulder and back again. She shivered in anticipation and rubbed her hands over his thighs beside her.

He bent closer and sucked a strand of the strap into his mouth. He nuzzled the back of her neck with his nose and he heard her gasp before slowly pulling back and loosening the knot.

When he released it again, it was Phryne's breath that was ragged. 

He brushed his knuckles along the now free bottom swell of her breasts and scraped his teeth across the top of her shoulder.

Phryne had to reach for his head to steady herself.

His cock was nestled between them and he reached down to wet it between her thighs and he found her more than ready for him. His mouth went dry and he had to fight the temptation to dive underneath the pool of lace around her waist.

She widened her stance, silently begging for him, and as his cockhead nudged it's way slowly inside her, she whimpered with need.

Jack suddenly understood that none of this had been about torturing him at all. It had been about torturing herself.

“I'm yours at last,” he whispered and she clung tighter to him.

He didn't thrust or move, letting his fullness be enough for now as he began to rub circles over her clit. It didn't take long before she exploded, her unfiltered shout of pleasure probably heard throughout the neighborhood.

Jack held her tight with his left arm as she shook through her aftershocks and when she was done, she pulled away from him.

She lost the lingerie from her waist, tossing it over the foot of the bed before Jack pulled her back into his arms and underneath him.

They slipped into a rhythm, the muscle memory of this particular position connecting them easily after so many months together. He felt her nails scraping over his ass encouragingly before palming the tight muscles. She loved his ass, which was only fair after all the time he had dedicated to hers.

She shifted her hip ever so slightly and he began to tighten his jaw as he felt his orgasm barreling down his spine.

He pushed himself over the edge, gasping for air as he rode out his climax. He felt himself softening and he pulled out of her gently. He fell beside her onto his back and they both lay there exhausted for a few moments.

“When did you first wear it for me?” Jack finally asked, still wanting to know.

“After Angela Lombard told me about your poolside activities.”

Jack frowned before making the connection. He turned onto his side in surprise.

“I may have been harboring some petty jealousies,” she confessed, not looking him in the eye.

“I remember.” The way she had sashayed out of his office, wanting to make damn sure she was in the running for his attention, made him laugh out loud as soon as she had left. As if anyone else could compete...

“She was flaunting it to anyone who would listen so I had to tell her it was so much better when you used your teeth.”

“You didn't.”

“Of course I did. She was trying to steal you away from me.”

“We weren't together," he pointed out just to tease her.

Phryne leveled him with a look.

“Right. Point taken.” He pressed his lips tighter together, knowing better than anyone that the status of their relationship hadn't been a factor at all.

“Once the idea lodged itself in my brain, there was just no denying it. I've been waiting for the opportunity ever since.”

“In the future, Miss Fisher,” he drew closer, “you'll find that simply telling me what you want me to do to you is quite enough to make it happen.”

“But where's the fun in that?" She pulled away, still tempting him, even now. "It's so much better when you figure it out on your own."

If she wanted an investigation, Jack reached for the blindfold, he would give it his all. 

"I suppose a little anticipation never hurt anyone," he decided, slipping the blindfold over her eyes.


	23. Anxiety

“You don’t have to be there until the morning. Stay here tonight,” she pleaded.

“Phryne, you know that I can’t.” Jack sighed as he tightened his tie in her mirror.

“You could if you wanted.” She stood her ground. “You’re a Senior Detective Inspector, for God’s sake. You have rights.”

“Not if I want to keep my job.” He held fast and watched her reflection’s face fall in disappointment.

“I hope you know that you’re the victim of a totalitarian regime,” Phryne muttered.

“I am aware,” he nodded, not bothering to argue. He sat beside her for a moment before leaning down a few inches from her ear.

She refused to turn towards him.

“But don’t you like having access to the Victoria Police Force?” He whispered, playing with the hair at the nape of her neck.

She folded her arms and pouted in rebellion.

“All the files, the morgue, the crime scenes…” He kissed the sensitive spot behind her ear.

“That’s not fair.”

“The evidence locker. The witness statements,” he continued, sucking on her ear lobe.

“Jack…”

“Isn’t a short undercover assignment a small price to pay to continue doing what we do best?” He used her own words against her.

She let out a whimper and he knew that he’d won.

“I’ll be back in a few days,” he promised. “As soon as I’m done, I’ll come straight here and wake you up in that way that you like,” he smirked against her neck.

“You’d better,” she demanded as she finally turned to kiss him goodbye.

He let it linger longer than he should have if he wanted to maintain any semblance of control, but it was going to be days.

“I hate when you go on cases without me.” She closed her eyes.

“I know you do.” He brushed her hair once more. “But I managed on my own for over a decade. I’ll be fine.”

“Promise me that you’re not going to do something heroic.”

“Only if you promise to stay out of trouble while I’m away.”

“Fair enough,” she sighed in resignation.

“I love you.” He caressed her cheek.

“I love you too. Please come back to me safely,” she added, unable to resist.

Jack simply nodded and kissed her one last time before letting his traitorous feet lead him down the stairs.

OOOOO

Jack shifted to his left, his right hand instinctively seeking her out, but she wasn’t there. He sighed.

They had only been staying together a few times a week and Jack hadn’t expected to miss her presence so acutely. He forced his eyes closed.

He’d spent the majority of his life sleeping alone, far more than he’d spent with her. He could manage a few nights in a dank hotel.

He’d always been a terrible liar.

Perhaps that was why silence and a stoic face had become his trademark. There was no guilt in keeping your mouth shut.

He shifted to his back and stared up at the ceiling, eyes wide open again. He knew there was no hope of going back to sleep. He wished that he had his books, something to occupy the next few hours before breakfast. His next undercover persona was going to be an intellectual.

OOOOO

Phryne threw her magazine aside, unable to focus.

“God damn you, Jack Robinson,” she murmured as she rubbed her sternum, trying to alleviate the tension residing in her chest.

She missed him in a desperate, irrational sort of way and he had only been gone a few days. She might have gone out and distracted herself but there wasn't any point. He held her full attention.

She knew that he was probably snoring in that soft way that only came when he slept hard after a long day.

She knew that working full time undercover was tiring, as one must always be hypervigilant and alert.

But she wondered if he'd dressed differently or spoke differently.

She wondered if the Ballarat officers even knew how to properly back him up, should he need it.

She would know. She would be right there, silently moving in tandem wherever he needed her to be.

She rose, mostly out of restlessness, to look out the window. The moon was full and the trees were casting shadows in the moonlight.

She wondered what Jack would make of her listlessness.

He would kiss the top of her head, pour her a glass of whiskey, and send her off to bed.

Everything will be better in the morning, his voice soothed her.

OOOOO

Jack was exhausted as he walked out of the station into the bright morning light. The raid had occurred at 3 am and while he’d taken the first train back to Melbourne, the three hour trip hadn’t been as relaxing as he’d anticipated. He’d been seated next to a woman and her young son, who’d spent the entire trip banging a wooden block against every surface he could find, or screaming in tantrum.

He heard the church bells ringing 10 am for Sunday mass as he finally unlocked his back door. He paused only a moment as a familiar jacket was piled on his kitchen table.

“Phryne?” He called out, but no one answered.

After a brief inspection of the house, he found her in his bed, dressed in his pajama shirt, arms wrapped around a pillow, hugging it close to her. He wanted to wake her, but a shower called to him first, so he let her sleep and headed across the hall.

He undressed quickly and let the stream of hot water wash away the last of the man he had pretended to be. He felt Jack returning to him with every passing minute and by the time he stepped out, he felt himself for the first time in days.

With a towel slung around his waist, he made his way back into the bedroom and crawled beside Phryne with a soft smile.

“Phryne…” He whispered, dragging a finger down her arm. "Phryne.” He nudged her again and this time, she stirred.

“What are you doing here?” He asked quietly. 

“Sleeping,” she grumbled, annoyed by such an obvious question.

He smiled. He had even missed her morning grumpiness.

He replaced the pillow in her arms with his own body and settled in for a nap.

OOOOO

Phryne stirred and felt Jack’s hot skin under hers. He always turned into a sauna rock when he was sleeping.

She turned onto her back, leaving him for some cooler air.

Jack.

She sat upright to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. His damp hair was a matted, curly mess and she felt her heart clench at the sight of his naked body haphazardly covered in a sheet.

She glanced at the clock on his bedside table and realized it was noon. She’d managed to get her first full night of sleep since he’d left her, and all that it had required was his home, his bed, his clothes, and his scent. Her codependency was enough to make her feel ashamed of herself but she didn’t care. He was here with her once again.

He shifted beside her, probably noticeably cooler himself without her draped over top of him and she smiled to herself as his eyes fluttered open.

“There’s a stranger in my bed.” She lowered herself to his side to kiss his thickly stubbled jaw. His alter ego had been scruffy then. “A wild-haired, bearded, naked stranger.”

“Too tired to shave,” he explained groggily.

“Welcome home.” She kissed him, experimenting with unusual texture on his face before it left. “I missed you.”

“Mm, I missed you too,” he murmured against her lips as his hands strayed to unbutton her buttons of his pajama top.

“Inspector Robinson,” she sighed as he began to grope her under her shirt. “Am I under investigation?”

“Just being thorough.” His hands never stopped undressing her.

She hummed as his fingers found their way to the drawstring of her smalls and dipped inside.

“Mm, I like that,” she praised as his fingers massaged her in preparation for him.

“You're about to like it a lot more,” he promised before rolling her onto her back.

Phryne wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him close. It wasn't often that they forewent foreplay, but this morning, their need to feel connected was stronger than anything and as Jack slowly filled her, she actually sighed with relief.

“Yes,” Jack exhaled himself, fully seated inside her.

She ran her fingernails up and down his spine lightly, letting him know that she wasn't in a rush.

He took his own time, moving languidly, and she moaned deliciously as he stoked the embers inside her but he never fanned them, letting them simply glow.

Mouths dragged over flesh, hands cupped and caressed, and it wasn't until they had found every piece of one another that their pace quickened.

“Oh,” she half-sighed, half-moaned as she felt him unlock something deep inside her. He didn't miss a beat as he tilted her hips and kept up his steady, relentless onslaught of her senses.

Her climax took its cue from him, slowly shuddering in long, unhurried waves that stretched on deliriously for minutes, rather than all at once.

Jack emptied himself inside her, giving her everything, before collapsing against her. She held him tightly, stroking his hair as he hummed in exhaustion.

Her hands paused as she realized she hadn't been expecting him. She hadn't used any sort of protection. Her touch became panicked as she clutched his shoulders to get him out of her.

"Jack,” her voice stirred him into action and he pulled out of her immediately, sitting back on his heels.

“We didn't use any protection.” Her eyes felt wide on her face while Jack's went immediately blank.

“I didn't know when you would be home, I didn't…” She leapt out of bed, her body calling for a bath, as if she could wash away the mistake.

“Phryne, stop.” Jack’s commanding voice worked for the first time maybe ever, and it gave them both pause when it did.

"Jack," she whimpered. She was falling apart.

“It may be fine. Rosie and I could never conceive. Maybe we'll dodge a bullet?" He was rationalizing.

"And if we don't?"

"Then we will handle whatever comes next like we always do. There's no point in getting yourself worked up until we know for sure there's a concern.”

“I don't want a child, Jack, even your child,” she warned him.

“I know.”

The unspoken remained unspoken.

They both knew that if she needed to find someone to 'handle' her situation, he couldn't know about it. She knew many doctors who would safely and discreetly take care of it for the right price, the wealthy slipped up all the time, but she could never make Jack choose between the law and her. She knew which one he would pick but the choice itself would kill him.

“It might be fine,” he repeated.

“It might,” she nodded, holding fast to his hope.

OOOOO

Two weeks later, Jack found her sitting on the corner of her bed, sobbing.

He paused minutely before coming to his senses and sitting down beside her gently. He tucked her under his chin, letting her cry into his chest.

“I'm not…” she didn't need to finish. He knew.

“Alright,” he rocked her, tears filling his own eyes for her. “It's alright.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the obtuse ending but I wanted you to be able to choose your own meaning for Phryne's 'I'm not'. I loved the idea that two very different things could arise from those two little words but that Jack just knew the correct one without words.


	24. Trust

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s completely unnecessary but if you are a completionist and want to read the previous trip that I’m referencing in this chapter, it’s Ch. 25 of last year’s Sizzlin’ Seasons Greetings.

“How much do you trust me?” Phryne asked as she floated into his office.

“I suppose it depends on the situation,” he said as he set his pencil down on the desk. The particular formula of curiosity and fear that only she could cultivate began mingling in his stomach and he knew whatever followed would give him grief.

“If I were to plan a surprise Christmas holiday and spend an exorbitant amount of money to whisk you away from your desk, with the Commissioner’s approval of course, and show up with your luggage packed and in hand, you would say….”

“I _would_ be surprised, Miss Fisher,” he credited her. “By your lack of creativity. You pulled that same trick last year,” he teased and her face immediately changed into one much more serious.

Jack paused, leaned dramatically around his desk and saw what he assumed was his new luggage sitting by her feet, and came back up to look at her.

“It was meant to be a tradition,” she defended. “Or at least, I was trying to start one, for you.” She flung her handbag down onto the desk and her body into her chair.

“For me?”

“Well, I certainly have no need for a tradition,” she pointed out.

His heart leapt in his chest. She was doing this solely because she thought he might like it. And starting a tradition meant following through in years to come, which meant that she considered their relationship permanent. As far as overtures went, it was a massive one.

“Where is this exorbitant amount of money going to take us?” He inquired.

“It’s a surprise,” she reminded him.

“I know, I know, no kid from Collingwood...” He didn't finish the short hand, simply looked down his nose disapprovingly at her and she smiled.

“Do you really want to go?” She asked softly.

“Yes, I do.” He clapped his hands together in certainty and stood up. “Now, did you pack for the inevitable murder we’re going to have to solve or is this destination still within my jurisdiction?” He asked her as he picked up his suitcase.

“Where we’re going, the only likely murder will be one of us.”

“How comforting,” he deadpanned. “Can this remote location be found on a map?”

“In the world? Somewhere? Yes, I’m sure it can be found on at least one map,” she presumed.

Jack rolled his eyes and took one long last look at City South, sealing it in his memory forever.

OOOOO

Jack made his way back towards the cottage on the hill overlooking the sea. His morning swim was invigorating after watching the sunrise on the beach.

He trudged up the steps to the stone patio, mentally preparing their breakfast menu, when he found her standing in the back doorway, wearing only her robe.

He stopped to take her in, basking in the glow of the morning light. He was reminded of a time before they were lovers, when he'd find himself knocking on her door late at night. The rare sight of her unmade face and tousled hair had made it almost impossible not to reach for her and pull her close. Now that he could, (and had) he found it odd that the nostalgia should spark now but he let it wash over him all the same.

“Mm, my very own Greek God rises from the sea.” The sleepy, contented smile on her lips made his own lips curl in response and he kissed her good morning.

“How long have you been standing here?” He asked.

“Not long. I like watching you swim.” She tried to pull him closer and he took a step back.

“Careful, I’ll get you wet,” he warned.

“Yes, you will,” she agreed wickedly. “But if it's the silk that concerns you...” She tugged at the sash of her robe and dropped it on the stone beneath her feet.

He gave her a searing look for her gall.

Her smug smile now the only thing that she was wearing, Jack began backing her up against the wall of the house.

“You think you’re clever, don’t you?” He shook his head at her antics, but let her draw him in.

“I think desperate times call for desperate measures,” she excused as her hands crawled up his arms. “And I am feeling so very desperate.” She locked her hands around his neck.

His comment was swallowed as they shared a spine-bending kiss.

“Get out of this thing before I rip it off,” she warned, “with my teeth,” she added for good measure.

Jack couldn't hide his body's reaction to her comment in his bathing costume and she cupped him encouragingly.

He decided his best defense was an offense as he pushed her up against the side of the house, kissing her as they both fussed with the wool.

When he was free, she hooked an arm around him and dragged him towards the reclined lounge chair overlooking the sea. She sat him on it.

He took her in, letting his hand slide up her thigh as she lowered herself over top of him. The endless blue sky behind her gave her eyes an ethereal glow and he knew that after her pale skin was warmed by the sun, freckles would be scattered across her back. He made a mental note to count them later.

His hand settled in the curve of her lower back as he rose up to kiss her. A warm breeze blew over them and Jack felt her nipples harden against his chest.

She worked her hips slowly and Jack fell back in euphoria, letting her have her fill of him.

She took him with the rhythm of the waves below, unrushed and unhurried, staring into his eyes and letting him read all the love he found there.

“I love you,” he whispered, closing his eyes and rolling his head back as she exquisitely moved over him. “Oh, I really do.”

“Jack, touch me,” she sighed and he reached between them to rub her clitoris gently.

A small gasp emerged from her. She dug her hands into his chest as she leaned into him and moved faster.

Her pleasure found her in a burst of light and Jack watched in delight as she hedonistically came with a shout towards the sky, her breasts bare, her hair uncombed. She looked the most natural he had ever seen her and Jack suddenly understood what the gods must have intended when they originally created the human race.

He registered her body squeezing around him but he was too captivated by her to focus on it.

Jack raised himself up to hold her as she shivered through her aftershocks. She fell against his chest, letting him take her back down with him. This time, tucked under him.

“You're the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” Jack praised. “Impossibly beautiful.”

His chest was tight and his hips were working overtime, picking up where she left off. His eyes were fighting to stay open as he huffed and grunted.

“Jack,” she sighed breathlessly, “oh, Jack,” she began to squirm and he knew she was coming again.

A long whine of tortured pleasure was all it took to shatter him and he seized above her, spending himself in long jets until he couldn't thrust any longer.

Phryne's mewls of contentment reached his ears as she held him tightly to her chest, stroking his back.

“I might not be able to move,” he warned, his muscles unsteady.

“We needn't try,” she reminded him and seclusion had never been so kind to him.

"I love this island," he yawned.

"Good," she kissed the top of his head and brushed his hair, "because it's ours."

Jack frowned before looking up to see if she were kidding. 

"Happy Christmas," she smiled.


	25. Admiration

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it! Thank you for every comment and encouragement this fic received. I promise to go back through and catch up on all the comments once I get a chance but you'll never know how much they keep this thing rolling. Thanks to FireSign for playing along and giving me an Advent calendar myself! Happy December everyone! I'll see you in the New Year!

“Jack, be a darling and get that? Our hands are quite literally tied,” Phryne requested as she and Jane finished ribboning a gift in the parlor.

He looked up from his newspaper at their tangled mess and smiled before getting up from his chair to answer the door. 

“How do they know each other again?” Jane whispered as they rushed to the window to witness the reunion.  

“They were best mates when they were young but Tommy stayed in France after the war. He married a war widow and started a new life. They haven't seen each other since 1919,” Phryne murmured dramatically.

The door swung open and Phryne waited a beat, staring at Jane, both carefully listening for his reaction. 

“Hello, Robbo.”

A stunned silence followed. 

“Tommy?” Jack finally stuttered.

“Surprise.” He held out his arm dramatically. 

“What are you doing here?!” Jack asked as the pair hugged and Phryne and Jane moved towards the hall for a better view. 

“Your girl found me, asked if I wanted a free trip home to surprise you. Couldn't very well say no, could I?”

Jack slowly turned around to look at Phryne in disbelief. 

“Hello.” He tilted his hat at the women standing behind Jack grinning proudly. 

“Come in, Mr. Finley. I believe we've stunned poor Jack out of his manners.” She waved the men inside. 

“Yes, I’m sorry. Come inside.” Jack let him pass as he picked up his things and carried them inside for him. 

“Hello, I’m Phryne,” she introduced herself with a hug. “It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you.” She released him before spinning around to introduce him to the rest of the bystanders. “This is my ward, Jane Ross and the true ruler of the household, Mr. Butler. He’ll take your things up to your room for you, if you’d like.” 

“You’re staying here?” Jack asked excitedly.

“For the next day or so, then on to Ma’s in Perth for New Year’s,” Tommy explained, his own eyes dancing with joy.

“And if you’re very good boys, you can even share a room,” Phryne teased them. 

“Well, you heard the woman, let’s go find us a room,” Tommy smiled.

Phryne watched the love of her life regress before her very eyes as he raced his friend up the stairs. 

“Mr. Butler, will you make sure the boys are supplied with enough food and drinks?” She requested, knowing full well that there would be no more sharing; Jack’s heart belonged to Mr. Thomas Finley for the next 48 hours. 

“Yes, Miss. I think I can manage that.” The light in Mr. Butler’s eyes twinkled and she chuckled knowingly. 

“Thank you,” she squeezed his arm in gratitude. “Now, where were we on the gifts?” She turned to Jane.

OOOOO 

In the early hours of the next morning, Jack and Tommy stumbled out of the library, Tommy headed to his bed and Jack to Phryne's. 

“There you are,” Phryne’s half-drowsy voice caught in her throat and she cleared it.

Jack undressed and climbed into bed. He groaned as he dropped his head in her lap.

“I may have drank too much,” he stated the obvious and she combed his hair back with her fingers.

“You sounded like you were having fun.”

“Oh, we were,” he nodded, looking up at her. “Thank you, I don't know how you did it. I mentioned him once in passing, months ago, and you managed to track him down and get him here in time for Christmas.”

“His address was on the envelope of one of his letters. It was just a simple telegram.”

“And a first class ticket from France,” he added, sitting up. 

“You never talk about your family and friends. When you talked about him, it was so obvious that you were close and had been so far apart, it just made sense to invite him.”

“Because you're generous,” he smirked. “And kind. And beautiful. And sinfully tempting in this,” he realized out loud as he took in her pajamas 

She looked down. They were modeled off of the men’s style, but tailored to fit her every curve. 

“Do you like it? It's new.”

“I like the tiny buttons.” He thumbed at one playfully.

“They won’t like you back in this state,” she smiled.

“I accept that challenge,” Jack replied dutifully. He eyed her carefully before looking down at the buttons and ripping the shirt open with one strong yank. 

She squealed in surprise as buttons went flying through the air. Her laughter overtook her as Jack grabbed her and slipped her over top of him. 

“You're too drunk for this,” she accused, still laughing, her hands on his chest for balance.

“Am not,” he volleyed.

“Prove it,” she challenged him properly this time.  

Eager to please, he reached between them and began undoing her pajama pants. 

She shimmied out of them, kicking them off the side of the bed. 

Jack reached for her clamshell case and handed it to her. She inserted the small rubber dome and looked him over.

“What is it?” He asked.

“You become younger somehow when you've been drinking,” she smiled, “A little more carefree around the edges, a little looser in the limbs. With Tommy here, even more so.”

“A younger Jack Robinson would have had some fun with you,” he murmured. “Before the battle scars and the paperwork.”

“Oh?” She straddled him again, her interest piqued. 

“You would have eaten him alive,” he smirked, “and he would have let you. Tossed out of your bed a few days later with nothing more than a good story to tell.”

She knew that he was right.

“Then I am glad to keep this Jack,” she decided. “A few days, no matter how adventurous, would have been a loss too great to fathom in comparison.” 

His eyes smiled and he reached up to pull her down to his mouth, kissing her passionately and getting them back on track.

He rolled them over onto her back, pinning her underneath him as his mouth explored her breasts. His intoxication didn't hinder his attention to detail, only made him more enthusiastic as he explored every sensitive place on her body and it wasn't long until Phryne was writhing underneath him in want.

Jack took mercy on her at last, lowering his mouth to her dripping cunt. 

She bit back a moan as Jack set to work eating  _ her _ alive and she wondered briefly if they should add a liquor cart in the bedroom. 

She turned into her shoulder, desperate not to wake the entire house as her body exploded in light. Hard shuddering quakes wracked her entire body as she seized before him.

Jack slid his cockhead between her legs, prepping himself to enter her and she hooked her legs around his waist, wanting him again.

Jack pressed his way into her easily and he groaned when he met no resistance. 

“Christ, you feel good,” he muttered and he began to glide in and out of her. 

“Oh, yes,” she sighed in his ear. “So good,” she nibbled at his jaw.

“Phryne…” He grunted, trying to hold himself together.

“Please, Jack,” she moaned, wanting to feel him come undone. “Please.” 

He began to thrust faster, helpless not to do her bidding.

“Yes, more, more, more,” she chanted in his ear. 

He came hard, biting his lip to keep from yelling and Phryne’s legs tightened around him as she held him close.

A final curse emerged from Jack as he collapsed beside her and she hummed in pleasure as she turned to face him.

“The next time we are alone, you and I are getting a bottle of whiskey and not emerging from this room again until we are both hoarse from screaming.” She patted his arm.

“Mmhm,” he agreed, his eyes already drooping. 

“The Drunken Soldier and the French Barmaid,” she fantasized. “I'll wear a corset that you can fumble with for hours.” She let her fingers slip between her thighs, so close to coming a second time. “You can show me what young Jack would do with two days’ leave.” She began to pant as her orgasm grew closer. “And I will give you a French education that you will never forget.”

She bit her lip and let her second climax roll through her.

When she turned to him again, she realized he had fallen asleep. She smiled at the sweet sight and tucked him in.

“Goodnight, Jack,” she murmured to herself before turning over and closing her eyes. “Happy Christmas.”


	26. Boxing Day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told Fire_sign that if she posted on Boxing Day, then I would too and it turns out, she went and did. So, I whipped up a little fluffy something this evening as an epilogue. Enjoy!

Phryne awoke to an empty bed and she pouted through her drowsy haze. It wasn't like Jack to leave her alone in bed at all, let alone in the middle of the night. She looked around the dark room before swinging her legs out from under the doona and tiptoed into the dark hallway, wondering where he might be. 

She found him standing at his kitchen sink, a glass of water in his hand, staring out of the window. She could just make out his silhouette from the light of the full moon.

Jack heard her approach and turned around.

“I woke you,” he realized, sounding disappointed in himself.

She shrugged noncommittally and he set his water aside and motioned for her to come closer.

She smiled softly before walking into his arms and laying her head on his shoulder, completely willing to steal any physical affection he offered.

“Sorry,” he mumbled into her hair.

“It's fine. I’m still not used to sharing a bed with someone; I notice when you’re gone.” She looked him over and realized he looked upset. “Are you alright?” She asked, knowing the sort of demons that interrupted her sleep.

“Yeah,” he nodded in that dismissive sort of way that told her that he was not fine but he didn't want her to worry about him.

“Well, now that I know that you haven't been ripped from your bed, I’ll leave you to your thoughts.” She gave his chest a gentle pat before backing out of his embrace.

“No,” he shook his head as he pulled her back into his arms.

His answer was resounding in the quiet room and Phryne wrapped her arms around his neck to prove that she wouldn't leave him again. She waited a beat to see if he would give her more of an explanation but when none came, she gestured towards the bedroom and led him back down the hall.

When they were safely tucked into bed and she had settled around him, he finally spoke.

“I was dreaming about my mum.”

Phryne lay very still, unsure of what to do. He never made reference to his family, even now that they were together.

“She loved Christmas. It was her favorite holiday. She never quite adjusted to a December summer and would stubbornly continue all of her family's traditions as if it were still winter. She would make hot cocoa and biscuits for my father and I every year, and we always drank it, even when we were sweating. One year, she even knitted us all hats and scarves to wear while we opened presents.”

Phryne snickered.

“Did she forget how miserably wet and cold winter can be?”

“No,” Jack laughed, “she loved it! Even when I spent my first winter in France, I wrote home that it was snowing in our trench and I swore that she was jealous of me being there.”

They both laughed.

“She sounds wonderful.”

“She was. You two would have got on like a house on fire,” he smiled.

“You think so?”

“Mmhm."

“Do you miss her terribly at Christmas?” Phryne asked gently.

“Sometimes.” Jack replied before falling silent.

Phryne placed a kiss to his heart, letting him be.

OOOOO

The next morning, Phryne woke early and made Jack breakfast. She was just setting the table when he stumbled down the hall.

“What are you doing up at this hour?” He asked, her clanging in the kitchen obviously waking him up.

“I wanted to surprise you.”

“A Boxing Day surprise?” He inquired sarcastically as she shoved him into the nearest kitchen chair.

“Something like that.” She set two mugs of hot cocoa down on the table and a plate of buttered cinnamon sugar toast. “I didn’t have time for the biscuits, but it is Boxing Day, so…”

Jack was staring at the plate in disbelief.

“Oh!” She pulled one of his footy scarves out from underneath the table and wrapped it around his neck before donning the other one. She had found them after rummaging around in the closet. “There. How’s that?” She asked as she struck a pose.

“Beautiful.” He shook his head at her silliness before using her scarf to pull her towards him and kiss her. “You’re ridiculously kind, did you know that?”

“It’s a great tradition. We should keep it going,” she suggested.

“Maybe without the scarves,” he recommended, pulling the offending wool off his neck. “But cocoa and cinnamon toast for Boxing Day breakfast, however,” he bit into the toast, “has my full support.”

“To wonderful traditions,” Phryne raised her mug.

“And stubborn women,” Jack raised his own.

“Here, here!” She smiled as they clinked mugs.


End file.
